


Cover Your Tracks

by Tch0upi



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Hurt!Merlin, Kidnapping, Magic Reveal, Protective!Arthur, Torture, Violence, protective!knights
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6585670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tch0upi/pseuds/Tch0upi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merlin, Arthur and the knights are cornered by bandits on the edge of a cliff, Merlin don't have another choice but to reveal his magic in order to save them all. But as they run for their lives, Merlin trips and can't get back up. Arthur, hurt, angry and feeling betrayed, leave Merlin behind. A decision he might regret for the rest of his life. Will he be able to get his servant, his friend, his brother back? **ON HOLD**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Betrayed

_**Heart, flesh out your webs** _

_**The past that was tangled will unwrap & shed** _

_**Soul, sing out your songs  
Clear out your throat. Belt it out strong** _

— A Boy And His Kite, _Cover Your Tracks_

 

For a moment, he couldn’t tell if the shock was greater than the anger, or if it was the other way around. If he had been free of all the evil thoughts that plagued his brain all at once, Arthur could’ve honestly declared that he didn’t give a damn about Merlin being a sorcerer. It wasn’t the problem, even if there was a time — and Arthur didn’t really know if that time was over — where it would’ve been. When he saw the hands of his manservant lifted up in front of the bandits and saw them being violently threw in the air, he couldn’t’ve denied the truth. The lie. The pain.

Morgana. And Agravaine. All the people he trusted betrayed him. And now, even his most loyal friend, he wasn’t sure he could trust. Wasn’t even sure of who he really was.

Arthur had seen the scene, with his own two eyes. They had been caught up by bandits and couldn’t escape in time. They had been forced to stop when they reached a dangerously high cliff, where sharp stones and rocks were waiting for them in the bottom, with hollow ravines which the absence of water made it impossible to survive, if the fall wouldn’t happen to kill them in the first place. It was a dead end. They had known it. And even he had to admit that if Merlin hadn’t been there, it would’ve been the end of the King of Camelot and his best knights.

Merlin. Clumsy, idiot, brave Merlin. A sorcerer. And in seven years, he never told him anything. Unless he had begun studying it only recently? Arthur didn’t know what to think. His spirit was working at the speed of light, his heart skipping a few beats. He was hurting, he felt like he didn’t know Merlin anymore. His servant, his most loyal comrade, his best friend. The one, God, that he loved like a brother, even if he wouldn’t admit it. It was like he was in a nightmare and that he would soon wake up by Merlin’s loud presence. Merlin who would stumble in his chambers, tripping over himself and dropping the plates to the floor in a clumsy but touching attempt to get Arthur out of bed with cheerfulness. And even if Arthur wouldn’t say it to any living person, he just loved to wake up to the sound of this annoying yet very sweet voice to his ears.

It was a nightmare. Arthur knew it, even if a part of him, small and dominated, was yelling at him that it wasn’t one.

Even if Merlin’s magic had succeeded in getting them out of the cliff’s edge, they were still running to escape the bandits. They crossed a long path, passing between trees so fast all they could see was the green of the leaves and the brown of the roots. The adrenaline of the danger was keeping them going even if they were all so exhausted. When they would finally stopped, Arthur had every intentions of having a long and good chat with his idiot of a manservant. He wanted to shake him by the shoulders, yell at him, ask why. Ask so many questions. He wanted to know more, wanted to know how, and again why. Anger and incomprehension was running low and deep in his body and mind, feeding the pain of betrayal. Since when? Since when had he been lying to his face?

But something terrible happened instead of their escape thought imminent and certain. Arthur saw, a few meters to his right, Merlin tripped and fall, rolling painfully down the hill. He heard Elyan, the first one after him to catch sight of Merlin’s bad luck, scream the servant’s name. The others were so far ahead to turn around, Arthur thought, and yet Gwaine turned and came back to help his friend that was now at the mercy of the mercenaries.

"Gwaine!" Percival yelled, further ahead.

Arthur didn’t have time to think. Closer to the knight than the servant, the blond haired man caught the arm of the man from behind.

"What do you think you’re doing?" Gwaine growled.

Arthur threw a distraught look at the mercenaries that were running not far behind them, getting closer and closer by the second. The ground was trembling under them. He glanced in the direction where Merlin was still lying. He wasn’t that far, but Arthur, calculating quickly the distance, decided that if he went to get him, the bandits would catch up with them for sure. Merlin was so far and so close. His heart clenched.

The young servant then rose, with great difficulty, and Arthur fell into the blue of Merlin’s gaze. His blue eyes, a dark blue, but pale when light was getting inside them. Right now, they were filled with an emotion the King tried to ignore : pain. The blond man understood that in his fall, Merlin had hurt himself. Somewhere. To his leg, surely, for his inability of getting up and joining them.

Time seemed to stop. Like an invisible substance, untouchable, imperceptible. Seconds felt like hours, minutes each like eternity, as Arthur was taking the most difficult and heartbreaking decision of his life. Feeling the knight move and swear under his grip, Arthur looked at the army of mercenaries that was running straight to them, and looked at Merlin again. He couldn’t get up, he couldn’t move, he was too much in pain to put weight on his leg. Damn it. His face was filled with pain and betrayal on his features screamed loud, louder than Arthur’s own.

Merlin was a sorcerer. A sorcerer. And he never knew. Merlin had lied to him. He lied to him while Arthur trusted him, more than he trusted his wife. Arthur swore under his breath. Time was flying away. He couldn’t think anymore. He took Gwaine and started to run.

"No time to waste, run!" he yelled. "Run!"

And in a heartbeat, they were gone, and so was Merlin. 

 

***

  
"You better have a pretty damn good explanation for this, princess!" Gwaine yelled with anger when they finally escaped from the bandits.

Arthur was running a hand down his face, as exhausted and panting as the rest of the knights who, for most of them, were lying or sitting down on the ground. Only Gwaine was standing, not giving a damn about exhaustion. He was looking straight at Arthur, confronting him with his murderous stare.

"Why did you leave him there? If you hadn’t stopped me, I could’ve got to him in time! Fuck, Arthur, WHY?"

Arthur glared at Gwaine, fury coming out of him like sweat.

"We’ll go and find him in the morning, first light. Meanwhile, he can certainly defend himself."

The expression on Gwaine’s face was horror, and disgust, as he listened to Arthur’s words. And it was enough for Arthur to feel a mixing of hatred, anger and guilt. He still had the idea of Merlin being a sorcerer in the bottom of his throat. His lies. But in the meantime, he hated himself deep inside for having left his friend to the hands of those bandits.

"Having magic doesn’t make you immortal or invisible, Arthur Pendragon! He was hurt! Didn’t you see it? How can he defend himself now, uh?!"

The king opened his mouth to reply, angry now, but Gwaine went on, not giving him the chance to explain himself.

"Maybe Merlin did lie to us, but he sure as hell never abandoned us! Any of us! For Heaven’s sake, he just saved our asses!"

He didn’t understand. No one understood, Arthur thought with frustration as he contemplated Gwaine’s face, and the knight’s too. Elyan, Percival, Leon. All these years… all this time passed beside his faithful servant, all these years of loyalty and friendship had forged a blind trust between them. Arthur — and he realized it now — would’ve left his life of every soul in his whole damn kingdom at the hands of Merlin. Even his own life. And now he couldn’t even count on him anymore.

How could he keep such a secret from him? And how could Merlin dare practise magic when he knew it was forbidden? He was his personal manservant, at his side for so many years, at the side of King Uther before him. He had been there when his father had executed so many sorcerers. He knew how much Arthur despised magic, much more after Morgana used it only for destruction and chaos. The heart of the young woman had been corrupted by magic, filled with darkness, and he had always believed that it was magic that was the cause of it.

But what if…

No. Merlin wasn’t like Morgana. Arthur was certain of it. And Merlin would never be like. Never. He knew Merlin was…

What ? He didn’t even know, to be honest. He just found out that his manservant, and best friend, practised magic and without him knowing. Since how long? And what was he really doing, he didn’t know either. For all he knew, Merlin could be playing him. He could be pretending to be a foolish servant and be secretly planning Camelot’s downfall. But Arthur couldn’t bring himself to believe such a scenario. Until now, Merlin had had so many occasions to do just that. If he really had been the same as Morgana, he would have already… Heck, he would’ve even helped her, for Arthur knew how much Merlin had worshipped her back then. He could’ve helped her with Agravaine too, but he’d done nothing of such. Instead, he had fought with him and the knights. All these years, Merlin had done nothing else but fight along side him.

So why? Why did he still act like an idiot? Like a simple minded fool? When he possessed such powers? What was his real goal?

"Merlin… our Merlin… a sorcerer…"

Elyan let out small breath that sounded like a laugh, but wasn’t joyful at all. It was what brought Arthur from his dark thoughts.

"Who would have believed it?" Gwen’s brother added.  
"I wouldn’t’ve," Leon admitted calmly as ever.  
"I can’t say that it surprises me," Gwaine declared, still standing but calmed down a little.

Curious stares and the angry one from the King lifted up at him. Gwaine only shrugged.

"Always knew he was special. Surprisingly strong for someone of his shape. Luckier than he should be. But in truth, it wasn’t really luck, was it? All this time, he used his powers to get us out of perilous situations. And that’s because of him that we survived all our patrols, even the most dangerous ones. And there’s never a scratch on him, never a serious injury and yet he’s only a servant, not a knight. He never wears any chainmail, any armor at all. In fact, I think we’re stupid and oblivious to not have noticed before."  
"You think he helped us in our patrols?" Percival asked.  
"The branches that fall mysteriously on the heads of the bad guys, leaves flying away when there’s no wind at all, the freaking dorocha incident, where Merlin survived where every mortal men died at a single touch. And there was that time in that slave prison, remember, princess? Fire don’t catch easy like that, and out of nowhere. Again, it was because of him that we got out."

The knights were dumbstruck by Gwaine’s revelations. The latter had just realized himself what it all meant. What it all implied. Everything that Merlin had done for them. Looking like a skinny, simple minded servant, he was, in fact, a powerful sorcerer, a quiet guardian — he was their protector. Always there to prevent the worst from happening. Always there to keep them from getting hurt. What else had he done?

Arthur watched his knights, one by one. Elyan had a sad smile, somewhere between surprised, unbelieving, and angry, but not the same anger as Arthur felt. Leon was staring at an invisible point on the ground, incredulous too by what had been said. Percival looked helpless, seeking his teammates gazes to share the sadness and the unknown feeling he was experiencing. And Gwaine, standing, angered, and most of all worried sick for his best friend.

"You mean to say that…" Leon started, clearing his throat before he continued. "You think Merlin, all this time…"

The oldest of the knights couldn’t finish the sentence. His voice got lost in his throat as he thought about the young servant. At the idea that he had helped them during their numerous quests — their dangerous quests. At the idea that the young man had put his life on the line for all of them, more than once. But what was bugging Leon more than everything, was the mystery that was all around this situation. Something he couldn’t quite understand… If Merlin was a sorcerer, it meant he had powers, great powers… So why in the name of Camelot was he still working as a servant? He was the King’s personal manservant, but he worked here and there in the lower town, helped with the horses, the stables, the kitchens sometimes. He cooked them dinner during their patrols, their hunting trips. He did all that without expecting any thanks in return.

Why?

"I always knew he wasn’t like anyone else," Percival murmured after a long moment of silence.

Arthur tighten his fists as he stood up.

"It doesn’t bother any of you?" he exclaimed.

Heads rose to him. But Arthur didn’t wait.

"It doesn’t bother you to know that he was among us and was lying to us, right at our faces? He’s a sorcerer, we can’t trust him anymore! Maybe he is hiding so many other things to us."  
"I don’t think Merlin is…" Elyan said before he was interrupted by Arthur again.  
"Is what? Evil? Corrupted?"  
"We’re talking about Merlin here!" Gwaine intervened. "Seriously! The guy mourns when we kill a deer."  
"Morgana was good. She was sweet, kind, compassionate. And because of magic, she became… She changed."  
"Merlin will never be like Morgana," Gwaine growled. "And you know it very well, princess."

Arthur looked at Gwaine, jaw tight. The knight had just said what he had been thinking earlier. A thing he knew was true inside him. But how to know for sure? All his life, he had been told and told again and again that magic was the essence of evil. His father had said to him once that to know the heart of a sorcerer was to know them all. He had said that when they’d been talking about Nimue, the wicked witch that had tried to poison him, right when he came back from his quest to find the morteus flower, to save Merlin.

And then he felt his body froze. That time, in the caves… that strange ball of light… He had always believed it to be a guardian angel, someone that was watching over him, keeping him safe. That day, it had helped him survive the caves and the wrath of the witch. Could it be possible that it had been Merlin back there? No, that was impossible. While he was searching for the flower, Merlin was in bed, in a coma close to death, fighting against the poison that was meant for him in the first place. And yet, Arthur couldn’t stop the thought to run through his mind. That was exactly what Merlin had always been — that was what he really was. Merlin had been among them, protecting them secretly during their quests, keeping them alive…

"You guys will have one hell of a talk, that’s undeniable, but Arthur, we can’t abandon him. We _have_ to go and get him."

Gwaine was begging him now, desperately.

Arthur watched as the knights, like Gwaine, seemed to be hanging to his lips. All that remained in his head was…

"Why did he lie?" he whispered.  
"He was terrified, maybe?" Elyan proposed.  
"Yeah," Gwaine added. "Did you think about that? Sorcery is punishable by death. By the pyre. Seriously, in his place, I would’ve keep my mouth tightly shut too."  
"But for the love of Camelot and all the existing gods!" Arthur exploded. "I would’ve never condemned him to burn alive! How did he think for a second that I would! He… he should’ve trusted me as I trusted him. Friends confide in one another. And yet, he…"  
"Sire, if I may," Elyan said in a calm voice.

Arthur let go of Gwaine’s stare and looked at his wife’s brother.

"No one here doubt your friendship with Merlin. Besides, Merlin is our friend too. But you have been long into the influence of your father. Uther was a good King, but you are, without a doubt, better and more worthy, and I speak for the entire kingdom. And I wouldn’t, either, condemn Merlin to the pyre, God, of _course_ not. Whatever his reasons, I’m sure they’re justified. But… during the reign of Uther, all sorcerers must have been terrified and scared to say anything, even to a friend. And Sire, you were the King’s son. Merlin could’ve lose everything, starting with his head. He couldn’t risk so much. I know you would never see Merlin executed, for whatever reason, but back then, before you two got so close…"

Arthur listened closely to the knight. There was truth in his words. It was true that when he was under the influence of his father, he wouldn’t have hesitated to condemn sorcerers, whatever their past, whatever their reasons, whatever the way their used magic. Never before, he wondered about that. Sorcery was evil, period. But was it really? After what had happened to Morgana, he was positive. Magic wasn’t good. But now Merlin was added to the lot, and Arthur, even with great efforts, couldn’t imagine the young man being the same as wicked step-sister. Merlin was simply good. And that was what made him think again about magic. Maybe magic wasn’t good nor evil. Maybe it was just the user that made it good or evil. Gaius had used magic before it was outlawed, and the old man was a remarkable man. Kind, noble, always ready to help other people.

Morgana’s heart was filled with darkness before she even discovered she had magic…

The King buried his face into his hands.

"Merlin…"

What had he done?


	2. Truth

Arthur was getting tired. He could feel the effects of exhaustion in every member of his body, and he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Two days had passed, two whole nights searching the area.

He had sent Elyan, Gwaine, Percival on one side, while he searched the other with Leon.

"Still nothing," Gwaine declared in a low tone as the two squads joined again after a while.  
"It’s ridiculous, whoever took Merlin, they couldn’t’ve gone far!'

Arthur turned abruptly. His blue eyes shone forcefully. After the anger, incomprehension and betrayal had hit him hard, doubt was slowly starting to enlighten Arthur’s spirit to the point where he now remembered how important Merlin was to him. Whoever he was, whatever he had done. He’d realized, as time went by since his disappearing, that Merlin had been abandoned to the hands of mercenaries and bandits. Magic or not, he needed to be rescued. And Arthur could not allow him to… to die. Hell no. He needed to find him. He could never go on without him…

He furiously threw his sword in the dirt as a blow of wind made his cloak rise behind him.

"It’s been two days!"  
"A storm is coming, Sire," Leon said calmly. "It’s best we head for Camelot. We desperately need rest. And we could do with more men."

Leon’s words were full of reason and common sense, but Arthur shook his head, jaw and fists tight.

"I’m not leaving this God forsaken forest without him. But you don’t have to stick with me. After all it’s my fault that we lost him."

And on those words, he turned to walk away. The night was dark and the wind was blowing with brutal force. Atmosphere was heavy, clouds thick. Leon was right: a storm was coming this way, but Arthur clearly didn’t care. After having been anger’s prey, he was now facing his life’s greatest and deepest fear. A venomous fear, eating away his very soul. The idea that Merlin would slip from his fingers… vanish somewhere from the face of the earth. Disappear. No. Arthur wouldn’t have it. He’d questioned himself during the last hours they’d all spent looking for the missing man, and whatever the fate he’d reserved for Merlin… whatever the sentence, only one thought, alone, kept clinging in his mind, and he refused to rest ever since: what if he’d never see Merlin again?

The knights looked at each other while the King was pursuing his way. Gwaine was the first to move to follow Arthur, and then the four remaining men, after a collective sigh, finally moved to stand up. For them too, it was impossibly painful to even think about the possibility to never see the young, idiot looking, but loyal and dear servant. It was unbearable, even though they would, sooner or later, desperately need rest…

***

  
The search for Merlin lasted two weeks.

The first night, Arthur had scoured the forest a million times over. He went hysterical, frustrated, but most of all obsessed with desperation. It had only been a few hours since the last time he’d seen Merlin, how come they hadn’t find anything? He couldn’t have just vanished into thin air, that wasn’t physically possible… They’d found nothing, except for Merlin’s red neckerchief. The piece of cloth was laying on the floor on the way to the cliff, where they’d been cornered a little earlier, where Merlin had to reveal his powers in order to save them all. He must have lost it during their run…

The knights had searched all night too, until morning’s first lights, every corner of the forest where the bandits could’ve dragged a wounded man. It was impossible for them to have gone so far already, that many men couldn’t suddenly grow invisible. Arthur continued until he collapsed from exhaustion. The knights were starving, dehydrated, tired. They were forced to settle for Camelot. They wouldn’t find anything else in the state of theirs.

Arthur ordered, after a night’s rest in the castle and a barely finished meal, that they’d look again for his servant, go further. But nothing. And now two weeks had gone by and they still hadn’t found anything. Nothing. Not even a clue. No tracks.

The King was sitting on his desk, chest falling over and head rolled down. His arms were wrapped around his head and he was trembling violently with the desire to run outside and search for his friend. But he was the King. He had to take care of the kingdom, at least until they found a track worth leaving Camelot for a while. It didn’t mean anything to go and waste time and energy looking for a ghost. He had to stay. Camelot would be vulnerable without him.

Worry was eating him alive. Fear, terrible fear of what could have happened to Merlin. All the dark feelings he had was creating such a painful mix inside him, that he didn’t care anymore about what Merlin was. He didn’t care about the magic. How long had he been practicing magic behind his back, why, and all the rest. He didn’t care. He just wanted him back. He just needed him here, safe and sound, with that stupid grin of his. That warm smile, his childish laugh, and his way of whining when Arthur would send him to clean the stables, but doing it anyway because he was such a loyal and dutiful man. He just wanted to see him alive, here at the castle besides him… where he belonged.

The door creaked opened, and with a crazy intuition, in a vain hoped, Arthur looked up quickly, letting himself believe for a second what could only be a dream, that Merlin would walk into his room crying about the horrible state of the place and all the cleaning he’d have to do. Merlin walking into his chamber without knocking because really, Merlin never knocked.

But it was Guinevere. Arthur looked sadly at her for a moment, then settled down in his chair, blue eyes filled with pain looking down.

The woman, seeing him, sitting in the sunlight yet without the slightest glimpse of life and warmth on his face, sighed and walked to him. The expression on his Queen’s face was a mix of sadness, pain and worry.

She put her hands down on her husband’s tensed shoulders and caressed his hair slowly.

"Arthur…" she whispered.  
"I’m getting sick of waiting, Guinevere."  
"We’ll find him. I promise."  
"We should have already found him. At least some tracks, a clue, something…"  
"Don’t lose hope, please," she begged as she leaned to kiss the top of his head. "Please, for Merlin. Don’t lose hope."  
"I have to do something," he growled as he suddenly stood. "It’s driving me insane sitting here and waiting while someone who is very dear to me is probably being tortured somewhere because of me."

Guinevere didn’t say anything while the young King was walking assuredly towards his wardrobe. What could she say anyway? She was crying Merlin’s absence as much as Arthur. Each night, in bed, they suffered together. Merlin was their friend, he was a part of them. It wasn’t just Arthur and Guinevere, it never was. He was always there and they’d never realized until now how irreplaceable he really was. How much they both needed him around. He was ever so devoted to them. All the things that he’d done for them. They’d never known before…

Arthur got his armor and looked at it for a moment before he let it fall to the floor. Guinevere opened her mouth to offer him a hand, but Arthur didn’t squat down to grab it. Instead, he lowered his head and swallowed a sob. And then he let out another one, louder, almost choking on it as he tried to keep it in. He swallowed his tears, his throat burning with rage and powerlessness. The Queen’s heart clenched painfully at the sight. Arthur never cried. Last time he did was when his father died, and he had cried behind closed doors, not in front of her or anyone for that matter. To see him literally explode like that was as surprising as heartbreaking. She felt her own tears raise to her eyes.

It was only when the blond fell to his knees that she seemed to react, to wake up from her shock. She ran to him and knelt besides him, wrapping her arms around him.

"It’s my fault, Gwen," he sobbed. "It’s my fault… I left him behind. He fell, he tripped and I saw it happening. I saw him… I looked at him and I didn’t run to get him. Wherever he is right now, he must hate me so much. He would’ve never done the same thing to me… All these years, he remained loyal to me… even as I let my father execute sorcerers right before his face. Despite all the pain he must have felt, he never turned his back on me, like Morgana did. And that’s how I thank him. Really…"  
"Shh, Shh…"  
"I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry, Merlin… Merlin…"

He continued crying his friend’s name as he collapsed into the young woman’s arms. Guinevere held him tightly against her, letting her tears slide on her cheeks, jaw tight. She was the Queen, but she was also Arthur’s wife. And when he was broken, she had to be strong. For him.

How she wished Merlin were here… He knew how to handle him. He knew how to warm all of their hearts when everything felt hopeless and sad. He knew how to make them laugh and smile.

She missed him so much.

***

He knocked softly on the already opened door. Inside, the old man he knew ever since he was born, was doing his usual stuff on the table. Potions and other science things. To the sounds of his knuckles against the wooden door, Gaius turned slowly.

"Hello Gaius," Arthur said in a calm voice.

His throat was sore from all the crying of last night. His eyes were a little red and swollen but not that much, Gwen had assured him. And anyway, Gaius understood. He was even wondering if Gaius hadn’t cried himself, considering the missing man was his beloved ward, almost like the son he never had.

Gaius stared at him for a moment, face emotionless, then turned back to his bottles.

"Hello Arthur. What brings you to these dark corners?"

The King breathed deeply, looking sadly at the physician’s chamber. He felt a heavy weight crushing his heart, as he realized he hadn’t been here since more than two weeks. He put his blue eyes towards the door at the end of the room, upstairs. He imagined the empty bed, empty since two weeks, and sighed.

He walked a few steps towards Gaius, shutting the door behind him.

"I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you, Gaius… I’m sorry I didn’t come to see how you were. I locked myself in my room like a selfish man while I wasn’t the only one suffering. Uh…"

Gaius turned to him, putting a reassuring hand on the blond’s shoulder.

"It’s okay, Arthur. I understand."

He waited a moment, then added:

"Is there some news?"

Arthur knew that despite his stoic face, Gaius was dying to know, and he was worried sick. And the hope, in his eyes, was breaking his heart.

"No, I mean… The last patrol I ordered is not back yet. But… let’s try and not lose hope. Merlin’s strong. I’m sure wherever he is, he’ll hold on until we come."

Gaius was surprised by the young King’s words. Arthur had seemed totally wrecked these last two weeks. During the first, Gwen had came to him to ask for something to give to Arthur because he couldn’t — and wouldn’t — sleep. And now he was talking again, with hope and confidence. It gave the old man wings, and he hoped again. He hoped to see his young protégé walking around in his chambers and watch him sleep at night, standing at the entrance of his room like he did sometimes.

"Of course, Sire," Gaius said. "He’s stronger than we know."  
"Gaius, I…"

Arthur stopped for a moment. He was walking around in the room, slowly coming back and forth, walking in a circle. He stopped in front of the table where Gaius was preparing potions for his patients. He slipped two fingers on the surface of the table, between the bottles, and then lifted his head up, straight to the physician’s eyes.

"You knew, didn’t you?"

Gaius knew that Arthur was referring to Merlin’s magic. He had been informed, at Arthur’s return after Merlin’s kidnapping, about what had happened and that his ward’s secret had been revealed. He only thought the King would have come to talk to him sooner.

"Yes. Merlin’s magic is the reason he came to live here in the first place."  
"What?" Arthur said, taken aback. "What an idiot. Coming to live here when it’s forbidden. But… wait, it means he’s been practicing magic all this time?"

Gaius nodded, face more serious than ever.

"Merlin does not practice magic, Arthur."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Merlin was born like this. It was never a choice for him. His mother was worried that his magic was becoming too powerful for him to contain it, to control it. She feared people would be scared and bring him to harm, so she sent him to me, so I could help him. Guide him."  
"If my father had known, he could have killed you both," Arthur murmured.  
"Indeed."  
"How is it possible, Gaius? We can’t… be born like that. Magic… magic has to be learned…"  
"Merlin is unique. We could say he’s a creature of magic. Magic is very elemental for him, it’s air in his lungs, it’s blood in his veins. There is not another like him. Some say he is the most powerful sorcerer ever to walk the earth."

Arthur made a face at that.

"Merlin?"  
"Yes. Destined to greatness. But maybe it would be for the best to let him tell you about all this. Arthur, you cannot begin to imagine the burden that weighed all these years on his young shoulders. I have witnessed it. He wished on several occasions to tell you the truth, but I always stood between him and you, telling him it wasn’t the right time, that it was dangerous. It was never the right time, and I’m sorry, Arthur. Maybe I’ve only been a foolish old man, blinded by the love I have for the boy. Merlin is like a son to me and I always feared for his life. You of all people should know that he seriously lacks of self preservation, and tends to always get into trouble."  
"Protecting me," Arthur let out in a breath.  
"Yes."

Tears were shining in his baby blue eyes.

"I’m begging you, Sire, don’t blame him. Maybe Merlin lied to you, but he never changed. He is and will always be loyal to you, until his very last breath."  
"It’s just difficult to imagine this… clumsy idiot to be so powerful. I’m not sure what I really think of magic just yet… After a lifetime of getting educated into thinking it’s the very heart of all evil things. But I know that there isn’t a hair on Merlin’s head that’s evil. I will always refuse to believe it."  
"Magic isn’t bad or good, Arthur. Magic is only a tool, a weapon, as is your sword. A sword cannot be evil, only its wielder is. Evil is in the hearts of men. It’s true that such power as magic corrupts, but some continue to use it for good, to protect people."  
"How many times did he save my life?" Arthur asked suddenly. "Honestly, Gaius. I need to know."

Gaius frowned, biting his lip while holding Arthur’s gaze, hard and vulnerable at the same time.

"More times than I care to remember. I lost count a long time ago."

Arthur closed his eyes and put his hand to his nose, pinching it. He sighed.

"And the idiot continues to serve me, to endure me. Me and my temper. Me, yelling at him for the slightest thing, telling him he’s stupid and unable. And he serves me with a smile. Okay, sometimes he is as moody as I can be, but still… He smiles at me, supports me, helps me even when I don’t deserve it. He never asked for anything, not even a thank you, nothing."

Arthur let himself sink to the bench, putting his elbows on the table as a wave of emotions was crashing into him.

"He must have felt so impossibly lonely."

He looked up to see Gaius. The old man was unmoving, slowly nodding to approve his words.

"Yes. But you were always more important than anything to him."  
"He never asked… for the credit he deserved."  
"He doesn’t do it for credits or glory. He does it because he feels it’s his duty. That it’s the right thing to do."  
"Well, now I know. I know."  
"And because…"

Arthur tensed lightly, breathing as much as he could as the old man’s look was getting darker, sadder.

"…you’re his friend, Arthur. There’s no time to think, no time to question anything. He’s always been like this. When he loves someone, he would do just anything to save this person. I can say from experience. And because I know him very well by know."

Arthur swallowed the physician’s words with a look filled with sorrow, letting them penetrate him and make their way to his heart. During the last two weeks, he had plenty of time to think about Merlin’s magic, to think about Merlin himself and everything else. But he hadn’t realized what it all implied for him for the past years. He hadn’t think that the young servant had saved his life several times. How much had he really sacrificed for him? For Gaius? For Guinevere? For all of Camelot? And never a thank you was spoken to him.

'You’re his friend, Arthur. There’s no time to question anything.' Was Merlin really his friend? Really? Even after he lied to his face all those years? He had been loyal, yes. But his friend? Friends didn’t lie to each other… Friends told the truth, even when fear was a part of the bargain.

"Gaius, I…"

Arthur was interrupted by two knights who stumbled in the chambers. Sir Leon and Sir Percival. Arthur turned his head.

"Your Majesty!" Leon exclaimed. "There’s news, come quickly! It’s about Merlin!"

He only had to hear the name. He was already down the corridors walking fast to the Council chamber.

***

The last patrol was back. The knights were gathered in the Council room. Arthur entered forcefully pushing the doors opened. His whole body was possessed in a new found frenzy. News. There were news about Merlin. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or yell in happiness. If the news were bad, then Leon wouldn’t have been in such a hurry, right? As if every second counted for Merlin’s rescue, which wouldn’t be the case if Merlin was dead. The knight would’ve had a harder expression, darker and colder, because he too would have been mourning his friend. But no. Arthur could see it. It was hope that was marked on all the faces in front of him.

And an unknown one.

A young peasant, standing in the middle, at Gwaine’s side.

"Majesty," Gwaine started. "He has precious informations for us."  
"Really?" Arthur said.

He approached the peasant. A young man in his early twenties, around the same age as Merlin. Blond with green eyes. Hair dirty and clothes. Tanned skin. He was probably working outside in the sun. A farmer or something like that.

"Hello. I’m Arthur."  
"T… Tom, your Majesty. My name is Tom."  
"Well, Tom. What kind of informations do you have?"  
"This day, I think… I… I’m not sure, but I think I saw you, you and the knights, and the bandits. I was on my way to visit family on the other side of my village."  
"Do go on," Arthur ordered.  
"And I… I witnessed your manservant’s kidnapping. He was taken by…"  
"By who?" the King almost cried out, eyes growing big with impatience.  
"There was a silhouette not far, sneaking, S-Sire. The forest was dark and I think… I think it was M-Morgana Pendragon."  
"Are you certain?" Arthur said calmly, even if he wanted to shake the man brutally until he tells him exactly where Merlin was — but the poor guy didn't have a clue, he was only a witness.  
"It was dark, but I’m sure it was her. I… I’m sure, Sire."

The new confidence of the man sent shivers down Arthur’s pine. Hope. Excitement. The King lifted his head to Gwaine.

"You were led to Morgana’s tracks last week, haven’t you?"  
"Yes, but it was a dead-end."  
"I should’ve known it was her," Arthur said. "Of course it was her. Who else?"  
"Arthur," said a soft voice.

Arthur realized Gwen’s presence for the first time. She was standing further in the room. Raising his head to look at her, Arthur waited in silence. In his wife’s eyes was worry — for Merlin — but also fear.

"What do you intend to do?"  
"Follow the tracks and hopefully find new ones."

The King turned to George, who had followed him ever since Gaius’s rooms — he had been assigned to him since Merlin was gone.

"Prepare the horses at once and everything we’ll need."

The servant nodded and disappeared to fulfill his chores. Then Arthur turned to Leon.

"We’re leaving in an hour."

Leon nodded too.

"But Arthur!" Gwen exclaimed running to him.

Arthur looked at her and took her hands.

"You don’t even know where he is. You only know that Morgana is walking around in the area."  
"If Morgana lifted a little finger on him, you can rest assured that I’ll hunt her down until my final breath to make her pay. I’ll find her, I swear, and I’ll stop her for good."  
"Arthur, she’s dangerous, and powerful, and…"  
"Guinevere," the King breathed softly. "Merlin has been gone for far too long. We finally have a lead, as poor as it is, but I’ll hold onto it and hope it will take me to him. I’ll bring him home, I promise you, Gwen."

The woman slowly nodded. Then she hugged Arthur, wrapping her arms around him and putting her head against his chest.

"Just be careful, okay? I want Merlin back as much as you do, but I want you to come home as well. You better come back with him."  
"When have I ever not kept my promises?" Arthur whispered, kissing Gwen’s hair with a small smile.

After a brief embrace, well deserved for both of them, Arthur stepped back from her arms and turned. He walked to the young farmer, still present.

"Tom?" he called.

The man bowed to the King, but Arthur stopped him.

"Please, Tom. Can you lead us to where you last saw Morgana? I’m begging you."  
"Probably, yes, my lord."  
"And do you think you’ll remember where they left from there? When they took Merlin?"  
"M-Maybe. I… I’ll do my best, Sire."

Arthur offered him a brief nod of his head.

"Then prepare yourself. We’ll leave soon enough."  
"Very well, your Majesty."  
"And Tom? Thank you. Thank you so much. This act of courage will not go unrewarded. As soon as we’re back to Camelot, I’ll give you whatever it is that you desire."

An hour later, Arthur and his knights departed to the deep forest where they lost Merlin. Tightening his grip on his mounting, he looked right ahead of him and up to the sky. His face expressed a single emotion: determination. Pure and simple determination.

_I’ll be here soon, Merlin. Just hold on until I'm here, little brother._


	3. Breaking Point

  
He could still feel the dreadful sensation of lies, as well as anger, but during the last two weeks it had been overwhelmed and vanquished by worry alone, eating him away and the absence of his idiot of a manservant was all he could think about. As they were scouring the forest on their horses, Arthur, followed by his knights, was thinking. He’d been so ecstatic by the peasant’s news that he had put the whole conversation he had with Gaius away in a corner of his brain. Yet he had been dreading this conversation for the past two weeks…

Could he one day get used to Merlin having magic? It seemed so unreal. In fact, Merlin was more than that. Merlin was magic himself, no less, no more, as Gaius had explained to him. How was this even possible? He never practised witchcraft before and everyone knew that: magic needed to be studied, mastered, with spells and incantations. It was an art, it had to be learned just as much as swords and being a knight.

And yet Merlin was born with those powers. How? Arthur didn’t care about why and how. Because this revelation was throwing away all he had imagined these past two weeks. Yes, he was angry at him, to have kept such a heavy truth to himself, for not trusting him. But Arthur couldn’t help but try and imagine what it would be like to be in Merlin’s boots. If he had powers like that and that he lived at the heart of a city where it’s forbidden in penalty of death, and plus you were the prince’s manservant, wouldn’t he have been completely terrified? His thoughts echoed the words of his knights… ‘He was terrified, maybe? Did you think of that? Sorcery is punishable by death. By the pyre. Seriously, in his place, I would’ve keep my mouth tightly shut too.’

Arthur would have wanted Merlin to tell him the truth, but at the same time, he was aware himself that he didn’t make it easy for Merlin. Fighting sorcerers his whole life at his father’s side and speaking loud and clear about magic being evil and wrong, the source of terror in this very world. He could remember the night when he’d almost kill his father, after a visit to Morgause. Merlin had been there just in time to tell him to not do it. He had been there to stop him from committing an act he would have regretted his whole damn life. Merlin had saved his father’s life, Uther’s life, the tyrannic king who prosecuted people like him, a man who would have had Merlin’s head if he’d had a single doubt about him.

"Now I know, more than ever, that my father was right. Magic serves only evil", he’d said that night to Merlin. "And it’s thanks to you Merlin that I can finally see it."  
"Glad I could help" his servant had only answered.

That memory was enough for the young king. All this time, Merlin, however a sorcerer, had accepted to be at his sides, diminished, lowered, invisible and often threatened while he could have turned the situation to his advantages, and destroy all of them with only a snap of his fingers.

But that was what a traitor would have done. A traitor would have engineered some plot behind his back. He would have made up some strategy to hurt him, or to kill him. All Merlin had ever done was to sacrifice himself, to put himself in harm’s way to protect Camelot, and God forbid, to protect even Uther!

And anyway, when would Merlin ever had any chance to tell him? Was there any good moment in their lives where he could have told Arthur? That night, just after Arthur had declared magic was all the evil in this world? ‘Glad I could help, Arthur. Oh and by the way, I’m a sorcerer.’ No, of course no. Then when? After Morgana’s treason? No, it would have only made Arthur believe he was like her. Earlier, then? The time Camelot was attacked by Cornelius Sigan’s soul, perhaps? No. Merlin had known, he’d known about that sorcerer coming back to haunt them. And all Arthur had been able to do was throw him in the dungeons and be all friendly with Cedrik.

Arthur hadn’t been a good friend to him, in the end. Starting with the fact that he’d never even notice, never doubted. Gwaine had had doubts, suspicions. Ennemies falling around them in fights, branches, gusts of wind. All of this had been going on right under his nose…

"Sire?"

Arthur turned his head, slowly falling back to reality. Leon, on his mounting, was staring at him with worry and seriousness in his eyes.

"Yes?" the king muttered without motivation, still deep in his thoughts about his precious friend.   
"If I may, Sire… What will you do about Merlin if when find him?"  
"When we find him", the king rectified in a growl. "And what do you mean by ‘What I will do with Merlin’?"

Arthur knew exactly what Leon meant. He was asking him if he had the intention to…

He couldn’t even say the words in his head.

Ignoring the pout on the king’s face, Leon continued.

"Well, I… Hum", he said and cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "I just wanted to know if you had the intention to put him in a trial. Or… you know, execute him."

Even the oldest of the knights had trouble finding his words. It was so monstrous, so against nature to talk about execution and Merlin in the same phrase. Arthur felt violent shivers running through him. If the idea alone had come to his mind only once without even realizing it, he was now chasing it away with full forces. No. Never. He could never execute Merlin. Merlin was irreplaceable.

"Rest assured, Leon. I have no intention of condemning Merlin. I don’t think it’s fair to accuse him of being born."  
"Sire?…I’m not sure I understand."

Arthur looked at Leon. A simple gaze, and Leon waited, curious.

"Merlin was born like this", he finally explained. "He was born with magic. Magic isn’t something he chose, it’s a part of him."  
"It’s impossible", Leon said. "That kind of thing…"  
"And yet it’s true. Gaius told me everything. Merlin’s mother was afraid for his life in Ealdor. His powers were growing too strong and it was dangerous for him to get caught. So she sent him to Gaius so he could guide him, find a way to help him control his gifts."

Arthur paused for a moment, swallowing hard. Then he continued, in a low tone of voice:

"I… myself always knew there was something about Merlin. Something special. I was only too damned blinded by my judgment that I surely unconsciously closed up my mind about the fact that Merlin could have had magic. My father told me ever since I was a toddler that magic was pure evil. Naturally, I never linked the notion of pure evil to Merlin."  
"Naturally", Leon repeated with a small smile.

He looked right ahead of him, trying to assimilate everything Arthur just told him. With a simple stare to his friend, Arthur knew that for Leon too, it was much to know all at once. The pack was silent, for several minutes, and Arthur, unable to take it anymore, finally stopped.

"We rest for an hour! No more!" he exclaimed.

They sat up around a fire the peasant lit up. Arthur sat against a tree and after a couple of minutes of turning and turning his thoughts in his mind, lifted his head up and looked at his knights. One after the other, starting to his left. Elyan, Percival, Leon, Gwaine. Going back to Leon, Arthur decided to ask the question that had been hanging on his lips:

"Leon, why did you ask me about… my intentions toward Merlin?"

Leon turned to his king, but didn’t have time to answer.

"Do you think he deserves some sort of punishment?"

At the question, Leon had a little grin. He lifted his head and looked at Elyan (who was facing him).

"In fact, Sire, I sort of made myself the spokesperson of the group. We all wanted to know what was to be Merlin’s punishment. What was awaiting him once we find him."  
‘What?’ Arthur let out.

He looked at Elyan, then turned his head to Gwaine and Percival. Tom, the young farmer, was besides him, silent. Arthur turned back to Leon, eyebrows lifted, expression lost between curious and shocked.

"With all the respect due, Arthur", Gwaine started. "None of us are ready to let you do anything to Merlin. Endanger him or hurt him. Even if we know that you’d rather put your own life on the line to protect him, something that you probably don’t even know yourself, princess."  
"Exactly," Elyan added, a little grin on the corner of his mouth. "We thought that it was our duty to have Merlin’s back. He always had ours."  
"He’s our little brother, after all," Percival continued. "We’ll always protect him."

Arthur had a hard time to swallow the big ball of emotion that was stuck in his throat. He was happy to hear that. Happy to know that his knights, his dearest friends were thinking the exact same thing about Merlin. None of them were angry, disgusted by the nature of the young man. In truth, each one of them just wanted Merlin back home and safe.

"If he could hear you now, he’d probably have this stupid wide grin that crosses his entire face", Arthur murmured.

And in his voice you could hear something like worry and melancholy. Elyan gently put his hand on his shoulder.

"We’ll find him, Arthur," he said.  
"I’m happy to have you, all. I don’t know what I’d do without you, guys," the king admitted in a small, broken voice. "Come on then, rest all you can. After that we’ll go and search for this idiot of a sorcerer. The only punishment I have in store for him is polish my armor, clean the stables and sharpen my swords. It’ll teach him to get kidnapped."

Some laughters were heard and Arthur let go of the little fear he had stuck in his chest and throat and laughter only a bit. But in his heart, he was endlessly worried.

What if they didn’t find him?

 

* * *

 

They took the rest of the day to find the exact place where the knights of Camelot had been attacked by bandits two weeks ago. Arthur walked slowly to the edge of the cliff, where Merlin had pushed the men with the sole force of his mind. He closed his eyes, seeing again the young man lifting his hands before him. Atmosphere had changed in a split second. Air had become heavy and Arthur could feel the ground underneath him tremble under Merlin’s powerful magic. After that, they had been free to run away from the bandits.

"It’s not that far from here", the king announced. "We just have to remember the direction we took after. We have to recreate the scene."

Arthur came back on his steps and followed the route they’d taken when they ran. He could still feel the air slapping his face as they ran through the trees on the uneven ground. Gwaine, in front of him, and Merlin further away on his right.

Arthur accelerated, trying to remember the exact picture of the areas, when he’d seen Merlin trip and fall abruptly. The king’s heart painfully skipped a beat in his chest. The simple fact of being here was taking him back two weeks ago. The feelings he’d had that day. Anger, sorrow, pain and betrayal, and, deeply buried under all those emotions: the terrible fear of having lost Merlin forever.

He stopped in front of a tree, and a small hill. He stopped and turned to the right. Behind him, the knights and the peasant had followed him. Arthur frowned as he stared meters further from there. He tightened his fists, closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again.

"I think it was here," he declared.

He walked a few steps to the right then stopped.

"Yes, right here. Merlin collapsed right here."  
"I think you’re right", Gwaine added.

Arthur looked at him and couldn’t help but feel guilty. In his head the scene was playing again and again, as clear and precise as if it had only happened moments ago.

The others were too far away to turn. And yet, Gwaine had turned and came back to help his friend get up after he tripped. Arthur had let him at the mercy of the bandits.

He didn’t know if it was Gwaine being angry with him ever since, or if it was himself. However, obviously, Gwaine was remembering the exact same thing as he stared silently at him.

"So, Tom? Where exactly were you?"  
"I was over there," the man indicated, pointing his finger an enormous tree that was standing deeply into the forest in the right side. "I took shelter behind that tree. I saw everything perfectly. I saw your friend, M-Merlin, tripped over that big root on the ground, there. I think during his fall he twisted his ankle, because I heard him moan loudly."   
"Where was Morgana?" Arthur asked, jaw tight while hearing the facts he’d been dreading: Merlin was hurt. And maybe even more…  
"She was hiding over there, on top of the hill," Tom described now pointing the hill. "Her silhouette was still, but her face… her face is recognizable everywhere, Sire."  
"Yeah," Arthur said, a dark shadow crossing his eyes. "That, I know."  
"And where did they take Merlin?" Gwaine continued.

Tom turned his head toward the knight. Even if Gwaine was a man who was generally happy and smiling, he had, in this instant — and ever since Merlin was gone — dark features and a cold gaze. He looked ten years older then he was. Arthur stared at him quietly while Tom answered the question.

"I think they went west."  
"You think?" Gwaine repeated.  
"Listen, I…"

Tom cleared his throat, uncomfortable, looking at the knights who all had their heads turned to him.

"I was in a state of shock, panic. I feared for my own life. And I didn’t know who you were. I’m not a hundred percent sure that they went west, I… I wouldn’t want to lead you in the wrong direction, but… I think… I think it was that way."

Arthur stepped toward him and softly put his hand on the man’s shoulder.

"It already helps considerably. Be assured that if by any means we find ourselves on the wrong path, there will be no charges held against you. You helped us in risk of your own safety while you had no obligations towards us. But if we find Merlin, I will forever be grateful, my friend."

Tom shook his head, and then Arthur looked at his knights, silently telling them to head west.

* * *

His fears grew stronger and stronger as they made their way. Night had fallen already. But Arthur was carrying on, scouring the forest like a mad man, moving with desperation. How come there wasn’t any traces, any tracks? Not even one? It was crazy, and even if Tom had indeed led them on the wrong path, it still was here, in this very area, that Merlin had gone missing.

"We should stop here and make camp" Leon said behind him, walking along the other knights.

Arthur tightened his fists, looking around. The forest was dark. He couldn’t see a thing.

With rage, he threw his sword into the ground with a shout.

"I can’t believe he just vanished into thin air! Dragging a wounded man must imperatively leave marks."

Arthur turned to his friends who were walking closer to where he was standing.

"Broken branches, traces of footsteps, anything!"  
"It’s too dark to see," Leon said softly. "Tomorrow, we’ll get on. We’re not giving up, Arthur, I swear."

Arthur was shaking, but he refused to admit it was from fear. He acquiesced to Leon’s words and let the latter guide them to set the camp. Tom went to collect firewood, escorted by Elyan. Gwaine took off his cloak and sat against a tree. Percival was feeding the horses.

The king of Camelot sighed again, while sitting on a root. He refused to admit he’d failed. He refused to imagine the worst. But plots were playing in his mind, ugly scenarios. He wished Gwen was here. He wished he could snuggled up in her arms and smell her comforting scent. He’d pay to hold his wife right about now, feel her arms around him and her smile and her hopes of finding Merlin. He’d pay to see them both again.

"Sire."

He lifted his head to the sound of Leon’s voice. Without parting from his angry features, he looked at his friend who had sat beside him.

"Don’t give up."  
"There’s nothing, Leon. Nothing. I bet you that once again we’re not looking at the right place. We’re wasting time."

Arthur swallowed hard. His throat was on fire.

Tears were peaking at the corner of his eyes, but obstinately, he blinked them away. But they didn’t escape Leon’s notice.

"What if we’re doing all of this for nothing?" the king whispered.

Leon frowned.

"What if Merlin’s already dead?"

The king shook his head slightly after those words, evidence drawn on his face: if one day the young servant was to die, he would never — could never — get over it.

"I don’t think he’s dead, Arthur."

Arthur looked at him.

"Please enlighten me, Leon. Why do you think that?"  
"We know Morgana captured him. I think if Morgana had killed him, she would have already sent you his body on a silver plate, to gloat or to make you suffer. She doesn’t act without thinking before, without reasons to her actions. If she captured Merlin instead of you, instead of a knight, it’s for a reason. Maybe she holds him prisoner because she knows that you’ll come for him. Maybe you are the one she’s waiting for."

Arthur listened to each of Leon’s words. Slowly, anger spread in his body, scattering throughout his veins like a venom. Anger, but also hope. Hope to see his friend again.

"She’s gonna pay," Arthur growled. "She’s gonna pay if she hurt him, or even touched him."  
"She will," Leon agreed. "She’s going to answer to her crimes in front of all of us, Arthur."

Arthur looked again at the knight. He knew the knights were particularly fond of Merlin. And he was happy to see that they all were ready to fight someone as powerful as Morgana to get to him. Even despite the fact that Merlin had lied to all of them.

"So you’re serious, right?"  
"About what?" Leon asked.  
"I didn’t know Merlin was so dear to you. Even… even after finding out he’s a sorcerer. You’re all ready to protect him.'  
"Merlin is still Merlin," Gwaine said from his spot, having heard the conversation. "Magic or not. And we owe him our lives more times than we know."  
"He’s right," Elyan added, coming right behind them, walking alongside Tom who’s arms were full of firewoods.

Arthur looked at the peasant, seeing Merlin for a moment, walking the same way with arms full. Then he’d trip, because the idiot tripped over anything. Then he’d laugh…

He stared at Elyan.

"I don’t care that he’s a sorcerer, to be honest. He’s proven time and again that he’s nothing like Morgana. He doesn’t use magic to do evil. He uses it to protect us."  
"Exactly," Leon confirmed. "Does that answer your questions, Sire?"  
"Yes. Thank you. To each one of you. You helped me understand and clear my doubts for good."  
"D’you really had some to begin with?" Gwaine said.

Arthur supported his fierce glare.

"I know now, Gwaine. I know magic isn’t good or bad. That the evil is in people’s heart, not in magic."  
"You better," Gwaine muttered.

Arthur frowned, his stare still on the brown-haired knight. They looked at each other for a moment before they laughed, a little nervous laugh, a sad laugh. Arthur’s tears came back and some of them rolled down his cheeks.

"Well then," he sighed. "Let’s get some rest. We’re back on the search first light tomorrow."

They all nodded and Arthur lied down.

But of course, sleep didn’t come.

* * *

They covered a few miles on foot before they were able to find some tracks. Precious tracks.

The forest had led them in a large meadow, where the muddy ground had left interesting traces. Arthur remembered it had rained on the day after Merlin had disappeared. His abductors had surely made it this far when the rain had started and then it had left two long marks in the mud — which had dried afterwards. Marks obviously made by feet that were dragged on the ground.

Arthur was practically ecstatic. Waving his sword, he looked at his knights then ran to his horse. He mounted it quickly.

There were long rows of trees surrounding the meadow. Behind them laid a path where the tracks were continuing, but also footsteps, traces of mud. Arthur felt his heart beat faster in his chest. Excitement, disbelief. Merlin. This path was leading to Merlin. He knew it for certain.

"It’s this way!" he shouted. "Haye!" he then said, kicking his horse on the side.

The knights along with the young farmer followed the king as he rode faster and faster. At the end of the path, they could see a building. An old castle abandoned in the middle of the forest, maybe? The path was confined with the darkness the high trees were creating. Not a ray of sunlight could pass through. A dark place was fetching for his evil step-sister after all. Morgana would love this place — that was probably here that she set her home.

She was there. He knew. He could feel it. Merlin was surely kept in that old ruined tower. A damsel in distress, he thought with a little ironic and sad smile. _Always told you you were a girl, Merlin. Honestly._

Then, jaw and fists tight, _I’m coming, Merlin. I’ll be here shortly._

However, as they approached the castle that was right there at the end of the path, a powerful force of attraction exploded and threw them several meters away. The horses got up quickly and, terrified, immediately escaped. Arthur, as well as the others, landed brutally.

It took some time for him to realize what had just happen. As he slowly lifted himself from the ground, a familiar voice rose not far from them. An evil laugh…

"Did you really think it would be that easy, dear brother?"

Arthur shivered violently. He got up in no time, grimacing from the pain in his back. Chin up, he looked at Morgana that was seating on a white horse. She was looking back at them with an arrogant grin. Her skin was pale, her eyes surrounded with black circles and her lips were pale. The young lady who used to wear colourful dresses, who worried for the wellbeing of others and who fondly made fun of him when they were child no longer existed. But Arthur quickly chased away the sadness. Soon it was replaced with anger and hatred. He jumped on his feet.

"Where’s Merlin?" he cried.

The witch’s smile grew.

"Easy Arthur" she said, openly mocking him. "He’s alive, if it can put you mind at rest."

Arthur felt relief flood through him, but Morgana’s facial expression and her victorious smile wasn’t helping him feel hopeful. He held tight on his sword.

"You think you’re funny? You think this is a game?"  
"It is a game, brother."  
"Where is Merlin?" he repeated, eyes full of determination.

Morgana slowly lost her smile. Her ghostly face seemed really terrifying for a moment, with her long spiky dark hair, that rose from her head like a mane around her delicate face.

"I’ll take you to him, if it can shut you up."

With a shake of her head, Morgana called an army of men that ran right towards them. Arthur and the knights turned around, eyes going wide with panic. He met Leon’s equally panicked gaze. None of them had the time nor the space to wield their swords, they were outnumbered.

Arthur as well as the knights were caught. Their arms were trapped in their backs and Morgana smiled.

* * *

  
She threw them in a cell, big enough for the six of them. Arthur rose as soon as he met the cold hard ground, but Morgana was already locking the door. Her grin was barely visible in the darkness of the place.

He grabbed the metal gates with force, anger irradiating from every pore of his skin, and shook them.

"Let us out! Let’s settle our differences like grown ups!"

If the picture of Merlin laying here broken, hurt, tortured, bloodied, starving and dehydrated wasn’t possessing every last bits of his mind, Arthur would have surely remembered that Morgana could kill him with the blink of an eye. Her magic was powerful. What could he do against her? But he was driven. Possessed. He wanted her sister to pay. Pay for everything she had done.

Morgana laughed at his poor attempts.

"You can whine all you want. I have only one goal, Arthur: to let you rot here until the day you beg me to finish you off. And when this moment comes, Camelot will be mine."

Arthur tightened his grip on the doors, until his fingers were as white as Morgana’s face.

"And believe me, Arthur. Starving to death can take some time. So it would be better for you to surrender to me."  
"Never!"  
"Oh and by the way, you might want to lower your voice. You wouldn’t want to wake up your precious Merlin from his beauty sleep."

With a shook of her head, she showed the back of the cells and bursted out laughing at Arthur’s expression, and then disappeared at the end of the dark and humid tunnels.

Arthur felt his blood ran cold in his veins. He turned quickly at the words of the witch. He searched, as well as the other knights, throughout the cell. But it was dark, so dark. Darker than the bottom of a pit. The only fading light was the torch that Morgana had left on the wall outside the cell in the corridor, but that wasn’t nearly enough.

He walked slowly, carefully, by fear of stepping on the young servant, when finally his foot touched something — a body. His heart was racing like never before. He was so afraid that ‘beauty sleep’ meant something entirely different in Morgana’s vocabulary and cruel sarcasms, something he wouldn’t dare imagine. He was so scared of discovering nothing more but a corpse. He kneeled and, with the very low light, he looked at his long lost friend.

If finding out Merlin was a sorcerer was a bit of a shock to say the least, two weeks ago, it was nothing compared to what he felt when he put his eyes on him now. The younger man that he searched for tirelessly for the past fourteen days. Fourteen long days, in which he prayed endlessly for Merlin to be alright — even if he knew that it was wishful thinking to believe that the bandits (ordered by Morgana!) wouldn’t do anything to him.

Merlin was lying on his back, head slightly turned to the wall, in the opposite direction from him so that Arthur couldn’t see the side of his face. But it was enough for Arthur to dive into a nightmarish panic at the sight of the damages. First, there was dried blood on his forehead, that had run down his temple, probably the result of a nasty hit on the head. And that was only one side.

Arthur went on and discovered an awful bruise on his jaw, that had turned his skin in a dark purple shade. His skin was normally a clean and flawless white colour and was sometimes mixed with pink when he would blush. But he was now as white as Morgana and even more. It made such a contrast with his black hair. He was also matted with dried blood and dirt.

What was worrying him most was his silhouette, that seemed even more slim then before. Did Morgana even feed him? Arthur doubted that. ‘Starving to death can take some time.’ The blond felt his anger rise up in his mouth like poison. He could distinguish the fragile and bruised throat, usually hidden by the young man’s ridiculous neckerchief. Arthur lowered his eyes on his friend’s body, hoping not to find any more surprises.

Arthur, too stricken to note the small rise of Merlin’s torso, rather noticed that his blue tunic had turned red with blood. Under the jacket that he permitted himself to take off, he discovered a nasty wound. A knife, surely. Arthur held his breath, trying very hard not to punch something. He then continued his examination, whispering to himself every little thing he swore he would do to Morgana. Lower on Merlin’s body, he saw a long and deep cut that was crossing his right leg from the higher part of his calf to the middle of his thigh. His trousers were torn and covered in blood. Arthur touched with the tip of his fingers and cold realization hit him: it was still wet and warm. So the wound was fresh.

Arthur was having a hard time breathing. He wasn’t even aware of it, but he was trying to catch his breath as panic slowly ran through his system, boiling slowly, fury making it even harder to stay calm. He ran his hand softly over Merlin’s pale throat, and then put two fingers in the crook of his jaw, seeking for a pulse.

"Is he alive?" Gwaine asked in a hoarse voice.

Arthur stared into the darkness, wishing more than anything not to hear his own loud and erratic breathing anymore so that he could have a chance to catch Merlin’s. _Please, please…_ he thought weakly.

Then he felt it. Weak, barely noticeable, but definitely there.

"Yes" he said, relief flowing through his body as he fell on his knees. "Yes, he’s breathing, but only just."

He lifted his head up when he saw a shadow moving. Leon had just knelt beside him, on the other side of the servant’s broken body. Arthur looked at the knight, his eyes slowly tearing up. Reality was catching up. It was catching him up abruptly. He wished so much that Gaius was here. He’d know what to do. He’d already be working on Merlin’s injuries, making sure he would live to see another sunrise. How were they supposed to care for him here, in the middle of a cold, wet and dark cell?

The only thing that he thought of doing was softly lay a and on his friend’s face as to turn his face towards him.

"Merlin" Arthur pronounced in a voice he wanted loud and confident.

Leon put an uncertain gaze on him. Arthur repeated.

"Merlin, do you hear me? Merlin…"  
"I don’t think he will wake up now," Leon said, as uncomfortable and shocked at the sight as Arthur was — as they all were.

Arthur swallowed up his feeling of powerlessness as well as his irresistible desire to burst out crying and sobbing. He let his hand traveled down Merlin’s chest than his sides. The wound that was there on the side of his stomach, even if it wasn’t bleeding anymore, was full of blood and looked deep. Arthur slowly pressed a finger on it, feeling the warmth emanating from it, as if the rest of Merlin’s body was cold.

"He shouldn’t even be alive with a wound like that one" he commented in a low voice. "And his leg…"  
"He is magical," Gwaine reminded them, standing behind Arthur.

Arthur nodded.

"He takes more time than usual to succumb to wounds that would kill ordinary men in less time" Elyan said.  
"It also means he suffers longer" Arthur muttered.   
"Sire" Leon stepped in.

Arthur looked back at him. He saw that the knight, still kneeling in front of him, was holding Merlin’s wrist.

"I think it’s broken, it shouldn’t be twisted in that way" Leon continued, showing him Merlin’s painfully twisted wrist.   
"And I wouldn’t be surprised that he’s completely dehydrated with that," Percival added. "Morgana isn’t the kind to be generous."  
"I can attest to that," Gwaine said, remembering all too well the time Morgana made him fight for a little bit of food.

The brown-haired knight looked Elyan who remembered it too. Gwaine was angry to know that Merlin had had to suffer hunger as well. The hunger that would twist a man’s stomach painfully…

Arthur could not stand it anymore. Guilt was unbearable. But also fear, and sadness, and anger. It was all his fault. His friend’s state, it was entirely on him.

"He can defend himself, princess?" Gwaine muttered on a sarcastic tone.

The cynical remark brought Arthur back to his own words.

"I really don’t need that right now, Gwaine."

Obviously, Gwaine hadn’t forgive him yet. And Arthur understood it very well. How could he even forgive himself? Merlin, his Merlin, his servant, his best friend, his little brother… lying here, between life and death, bloody, unconscious, hungry, feverish and dehydrated… And it was his fault. He should’ve put his anger aside and went to get him when he had fallen that day. He would’ve rather went all evening shouting at him back in Camelot… At least he would’ve been safe and sound. He would’ve rather done anything instead of having him pale and unresponsive.

"Come on, you idiot. Up you get. It’s an order of your king. Quit being so lazy. C’m on, Merlin, open your eyes, wake up!"

A tear ran down his cold cheek. Was it any other time, Arthur would’ve hid it or try to chase it away. But right know, he couldn’t bring himself to care whatsoever. He had eyes only for his friend that was lying on the ground closer and closer to death at each passing second.

He would give anything. To be in Camelot, in his chambers, warm at home with his wife, and Merlin there, not far, always there if he needed him. Because Merlin was always around, Arthur had grown quite used to his presence. To his unfailing smile, his silly jokes Arthur always found funny even though he never admitted it — that would be complimenting Merlin and kings didn’t compliment servants — and his unnerving good moods. His wisdom. His ways of always giving him hope in the future, in himself.

No.

Merlin had to wake up. He had to open his eyes.

They had to find a way to escape from here and get back to Camelot, where Gaius could heal his young ward.

And their lives could go on the way they were.

Arthur would give everything that he had.

Then, suddenly, he heard a little sound, barely audible.

"Merlin?"

Arthur leaned over. With unexpected joy, he saw Merlin’s head stir softly. Another hoarse sound escaped his lips. A moan. His mouth opened slightly as if he was trying to say something, and his eyelids fluttered.

"It’s me, Merlin, I’m here."

The knights, as well as Arthur, were all hanging on the moment. The young sorcerer was alive and on the verge of waking. Maybe the situation wasn’t as bad as it had seemed… A glimmer of hope made its way through their hearts. Arthur’s was beating with strength and confidence, but also with fear and apprehension.

Merlin finally opened his eyes. The blue orbs were confused and unfocused for a moment. He frowned and grimaced a little, pain waking up in his body at the same time.

Arthur observed him waiting for his friend to see him.

He surely hadn’t been expecting what happened next. He had imagined something else, anything, but not this course of things… Something Arthur could not explain.

When Merlin’s lost eyes caught him, he barely recognized him. Everything that had made Merlin who he was had always been reflected through his eyes. His kindness, his purity, his courage and even his dreamer side. The little sparkle in his blue irises Arthur had always loved to watch — that something inside his friend that always gave fate to the king.

All of it was gone.

Merlin’s eyes now were almost the ones of a stranger. They were lost, astray, distraught, scared even. There were fear and terror inside them that hurt Arthur like shocks. It was another personality in there. Merlin’s had disappeared, or was buried under, somewhere deep under all the torture he had endured.

And with a blank face, without even widening his eyes to show he had seen and recognized him, Merlin pushed him weakly away, with little strength he had left. The king frowned.

"Merlin?"

He took his friend’s shoulders, but the latter pushed him again, twisting on the floor trying to get away from him. He was whimpering softly, little sounds of pain. "Don’t come any closer" he let out in a broken voice, as unrecognizable as his face. And he kept on repeating those words, snuggling up as if to protect himself.

Arthur’s eyes were widened with fear. He looked at Leon before he looked back at Merlin.

"Merlin, please" he said, presenting his hand. "You’re in shock…"

But before his hand had the time to touch him, Merlin straightened up suddenly in spite of his broken wrist and shot Arthur a murderous glare.

"GO AWAY!"

And the sound of that cold, hard voice — far, so far from Merlin’s normally soft, happy and comforting deep voice — resonated through Arthur’s body, from each one of his bones to the very core of his spine.

* * *

 

TBC...

 


	4. What Have You Done?

_Would you mind if I killed you?_   
_Would you mind if I tried to?_   
_'cause you have turned into my worst enemy_   
_You carry hate that I don't feel_   
_It's over now_

**_What Have You Done_** , Within Temptation

 

**TWO WEEKS EARLIER**

Merlin opened his eyes slowly, emerging to the world of consciousness with a buzzing in his head. His skull hurt so much that he could’ve cried. His brain was working so slow as he looked to the right and to the left. He didn’t know where he was and there was no way for him to find out. Everything was just so dark around him, his eyes couldn’t see anything. He only felt like he was in a big room, if the barely audible sound of the echo was any indication.

Then Merlin realized he was hanging from his arms. His wrists, in which sensation came flooding back with pain and burning, were chained above his head and his feet were barely touching ground. Panic submerged him as he tried to remember what had happened. Apart from his wrists that had obviously been mistreated, he was hurting on his sides, in his stomach and a place on his face, the side of his right eyebrow. As he lowered his head towards his feet when he remembered he had broken his ankle, he accidentally woke up the pain in a long and agonizing cut going from his calf to his thigh on the same leg. The pain was so intense it dragged a whimper from his mouth. Thick and warm blood was sticking to his trousers, and the wound hurt so much he was almost numb to the bone. 

What could’ve happened? Then, all the memories came back like a storm…

He remembered having used his magic in front of Arthur and the knights. He hadn’t had a choice, he had acted without thinking — as usual, in fact, Arthur would’ve said if he’d heard him think right now. But there wasn’t any time to think. He had seen the obvious future and it hadn’t been so pretty: him, Arthur and the knights would’ve had been caught by the bandits, because there was no way they would’ve survived if they had jumped off that cliff. He had only acted to protect Arthur and all his friends. 

Even if magic had helped them push the bandits away to let them escape that deathly dead-end, they hadn’t completely outrun them. In his blurry mind, Merlin remembered having tripped, his ankle twisting painfully. He had fallen to the floor, and he could still feel the brutal landing. His palms were scratched by the branches on the ground, and he had cried out because of the pain in his ankle, but he hadn’t had time to dwell on that. The bandits were getting dangerously close. The ground was shaking under the weight of the men coming down their way. He had then tried to stand but his foot had called him back — he couldn’t walk.

In the distance, Arthur had stopped when he had noticed that Merlin had fallen. Merlin had seen the glimpse of hesitation, panic and fear in the king’s eyes, it was as if time had stopped. Merlin was happy that Arthur was safe and that he could run and escape, even if, in a brief moment, he had thought — foolishly — that the blond would come back for him. That he wouldn’t give up on him. That their friendship actually meant something for the king. But Merlin had had to remember that just fives minutes ago, Arthur had witnessed him doing magic. That was the reason. But Merlin couldn’t help but feel deeply hurt, as Arthur was grabbing Gwaine by the arm and escaping, saving their lives and leaving him here, to the mercy of those bandits. 

What had happened next? The young warlock closed his eyes for a moment, the light sound of the chains clicking resonating in the echoing room. He thought, in spite of his hurting head. After… After, he didn’t have a choice but to wait for his destiny: the bandits had stopped, of course, next to him. Merlin had been too dazed and too shaken at the thought of Arthur abandoning him to use magic to, yet again, save his skin and escape. Instead, he had felt several big hands grabbing him and tossing him around as they carried him away.

"Your magic don’t work anymore, son?" one of them mocked, laughing out loud. "Wha’ a shame!"

And Merlin had come back to his senses. His vision was blurry from a couple of tears — of frustration, he made himself believe. He had fought back, kicking one of them in the stomach. His arms had been held with more strength and Merlin had shouted. His eyes had glowed gold and three men had been thrown away. He remembered vaguely a brief and vain battle, Merlin fighting like the devil between their thick arms, and using magic, but there were too many of them. It must have been at that moment that he had been hit by a sword on his leg. At last, one of them had come from behind and had shoved a cloth on his mouth in which Merlin had breathed deeply, and whatever that was, it had worked: the young sorcerer had fell on the ground like a broken dummy. 

And here he was. In this wide and cold space. Even in the darkness, he could distinguish the small cloud of smoke coming out of his mouth. He couldn’t remember a thing following the moment he had breathed the toxic cloth… That moment he had thought he would die suffocating before he realized he was only fainting. And right before he lost consciousness, just before he realized the nature of the product they put on that old piece of cloth — a product he had already smelled before — he had seen a silhouette in the forest. A familiar silhouette, wearing black, sneaking in the shadow. Watching him. And then darkness welcomed him.

Great. At least, he knew who was ordering the bandits. Merlin shivered a little imagining Morgana entering this room — cell ? — and getting closer to him while he was in this state of vulnerability. Could he use magic against her? There was no point in hiding it anymore, Arthur knew now. But was he stronger than her? Anyway, Merlin thought while looking at his wrists, chained with thick iron shackles. What could he do that she couldn’t stop? She wasn’t idiot nor was she a novice…

But knowing she had led this attack, and that he was the only one captured changed things. It wasn’t ordinary bandits. Morgana knew them and had premeditated all of this. Was he the one she wanted? No. Of course not. Morgana had surely wished to catch Arthur, but the latter had escaped, so she took him instead. Arthur’s loyal servant with whom she would have fun, thinking Arthur would come back for him and then at that moment she’d take him.

No luck for her, the sorcerer thought. Arthur wouldn’t be coming back. He would’ve already. He had left him in the forest. Because he was a sorcerer. Arthur had abandoned him for good.

Merlin closed his eyes at the idea, trying to ignore the pain that he felt in his chest. He opened them back and swore he wouldn’t cry. Arthur had the rights to feel betrayed by his lies, and he understood. Merlin understood perfectly, he had even apprehended that moment. He just couldn’t have imagined a worst way for things to get settled… Arthur didn’t hate him. It was worst then that: he had left him to his death, purchased and trapped by bloodthirsty bandits while he perfectly well knew that Merlin had no chance of running away like he did. But Merlin understood. And now, he would go on doing what he did best: protect Arthur. Morgana would try to lure Arthur to her using him, Merlin wouldn’t even flinch. And then again, Arthur wouldn’t come.

The sound of a loud metallic door opening resonated so suddenly in the silence of the room that Merlin jumped out of his skin. He lifted his head up as a thin ray of light made its way inside the cell — because yes, that definitely was a cell. A silhouette entered, surrounded by shadow, but Merlin could make out crazy and long hair and suddenly the person felt familiar. Painfully familiar. She came closer and he saw the pale skin as well as the black dress. The sound of her heels on the stone floor.

Morgana.

Merlin tensed a little, unconsciously trying to get back, but he couldn’t go very far. 

"Good morning" she said in a cold voice, and Merlin could hear sarcasm and mockery. 

He frowned.

"It’s been a while, hasn’t it? We’ve a lot to talk about, you and I, don’t we?"

Merlin swallowed back, as the young woman got closer and closer until he could see half of her face, the other half completely hidden in the darkness. Morgana. Morgana and her eyes full of vengeful fire, hatred and resentment. The wizard was holding back a breath without even realizing it, and several minutes like this flown away. 

"Oh don’t be like that!" the witch laughed.

"What do you want, Morgana?" Merlin growled, his voice hoarse — he was hungry and thirsty as well as physically hurt.

"It’s a funny question, don’t you think? It’s obvious, what I want."

"Arthur won’t be coming. Forget it."

"Of course he won’t."

Merlin felt his body freeze. There was a spark of madness in Morgana’s gaze, and it was growing bigger and bigger as she laughed. What did she mean by that?

"After all, why would he rescue a traitor?"

He thought she’d say a servant. Why would he rescue a servant. But no. And Merlin felt a wave of cold invade his whole body. Fear. And then warmth, pain spreading fast inside his veins. He began to shake a little, while his breath went faster. No. That wasn’t good. She knew. She _knew_. 

"Don’t look so surprised" she spit with rage. "I saw everything, you know. Your little spectacle. I was there. And really, Merlin, that was quite impressive."

She slammed her palms together, mockingly imitating a cheering and Merlin almost felt like throwing up — but that was impossible because his stomach was completely empty.

"You are some kind of a genius. You kept your cover all these years. I admire the way you fooled Arthur."

Her voice was getting darker and darker the more she talked. Merlin didn’t want to hear any more of this. His heart was beating fast and he was listening anyway. Did he have another choice? He looked into Morgana’s green eyes. The eyes that, years ago, were so tender and so soft, looking at you with love and kindness…

"You fooled us all in the end, didn’t you, Emrys?"

Another shock left him speechless. Morgana laughed. 

"You thought I was this stupid? Emrys, the one they say is so powerful, destined to be my doom, and the unnerving, stupid servant who always step where he doesn’t belong to ruin my plans are, in fact, one and the same. Merlin. Emrys. All this time, you played us, didn’t you? You were at the heart of Camelot, at Arthur’s sides, with all your powers. What a traitor, indeed. While he had your trust and absolute loyalty, I suffered alone, abandoned, terrified by my own magic. You were there, under my nose and the only thing you thought to do was to poison me. And today you hunt me down the way Uther always did sorcerers. You don’t realize what a hypocrite you really are, Merlin. Or should I say Emrys, now?"

The venomous words of Morgana slowly made their way inside him. Merlin promised himself he would fight them, but the tears, as much as the anger, the fear, the hatred and the guilt came flooding back inside his heart and soul. Flashes of that day, the one the dragon said those words, words he’d had die than hear. _You must eliminate the source of the enchantment. You must kill the witch. The lady Morgana._

He could see the young woman again, kneeling on the floor in her green dress, the one that suited her so well. He saw her again, drinking the poison, still unaware of the nature of what she was drinking. Then, betrayal sank into her. Her throat burning up, the tears in her eyes when she looked up at him. The sound of her moans as she was choking. And when she disappeared with Morgause, it had been the last time he’d ever seen Morgana. ‘Cause when she was back a year or so later, it wasn’t her anymore. It was a stranger. 

"I didn’t have a choice."

Morgana frowned, her white face twisting in an angry expression. 

"We always have a choice! A man who possesses such powers should have been able to find another way."

"Arthur won’t come," Merlin said again. 

The witch chuckled. She stepped closer, and closer. Merlin could now see her whole face. From her pale lips to the dark circles under her eyes. The coldness and the hardness of her features made him shiver.

"We’ll see."

And then, when Merlin thought she’d turn around and leave, she instead stabbed him violently in the stomach with a knife she’d been hiding behind her back. Merlin could do nothing else but scream, and then she pulled it out. He could feel the blood run down from the wound, pass through his tunic, warm and thick. A wave of dizziness caught him and his vision blurred for a moment, little black holes dancing in front of him, where Morgana’s evil grin should be standing. 

Her demonic smile grew bigger as she slowly and softly run her fingers on Merlin’s cheek, observing the man pale considerably. She then lifted her hands up above Merlin’s head and, with the metallic sound of the chains knocking together, Merlin felt the floor disappear under him and he fell abruptly. Without delay, he put his hand onto his wound, eyes flickering, trying to stay awake in case Morgana wasn’t finished with him for now. But he knew he wasn’t going to be able to defend himself anyway… He was already losing too much blood.

"Not to tall and mighty now, are we, Emrys? Don’t worry, I didn’t stab any organs. Let’s see how you can heal yourself now, with the little magic I allowed you. This room is enchanted and the more you use magic, the more weak you’ll become, until the moment you die, obviously. You have enough magic not to bleed out, even thought I admit this is something I would want to witness. But you’re no use for me dead, Emrys. I’d rather have you weak and alive. Well, at least for now. See you later then!"

With a loud bang, the door closed behind her. 

Merlin pressed on the wound, not very deep, but wide opened, bleeding and painful. He pressed two shaking fingers and whispered a spell with the little strength he had left. Morgana was right. His magic was half back into his body. She would be gloating. He had enough to keep away infections and the risk of bleeding out, but not enough to shut the wound and chase the pain away. 

Vanquished (for now), he let his head fall on the cold and hard floor, and closed his eyes slowly. 

_I’m sorry, Arthur…_ were his last thoughts — incoherent and foolish — before he lost consciousness. 

* * *

He woke up next time by his own whimper. He was snuggled up around himself, knees up on his chest as to try and keep himself warm. His fingers were shaking and were covered in blood because he kept touching and pressing his wound. The pain was unbearable, and it had woke him a couple of times already. He opened his eyes and leaned a little to check on it, trying to see how bad it was. Even if it was day, it was still as dark as night. It was so painful… and his leg hurt too. He feared infection in one of his injuries, if not both…

Despite the cold, Merlin was sweating. His dark bangs were sticking to his forehead, and the little knowledge of physician he knew told him it was because of a fever. 

His stomach hurt too. His throat was on fire. He was hurting just everywhere, and to wrap it all up, his head was pounding.

The young warlock tried to rise, but in his movement, he heard the knocking of the chains. Great. Morgana had shackled him to the wall. It was a little better than being hanged from the ceiling, but still, discomfort welcomed him as an old friend in both the scenarios.

How many time had passed now? How many time had he been unconscious? He didn’t know. But it must have been some hours, maybe even days, because hunger was making him feel like he was breaking from the inside out. 

He leaned on the wall. His wound had stopped bleeding, but the pain was still intolerable. He tried to concentrate on his breathing, and despite the pain, the hunger and the despair that was making a home out of Merlin’s very soul, he couldn’t help but think about Arthur. Had he succeeded in getting back to Camelot? He could imagine Arthur kidnapped too and kept in another cell, Morgana only playing with him like a toy. 

No. Arthur was back in Camelot, and everything else was alright. He was safe. As well as all the knights.

But when he closed his eyes and let himself get drifted away by unconsciousness, tired and shivering from the fever, Merlin heard a soul-shattering yell. He opened his eyes wide, jumping out. The scream was coming from inside the room, but there was no one there. 

He listened, heart skipping a beat, and whole body trembling. And then another yell. A terrified yell. Agonizing.

Merlin lifted his legs up onto his chest, whimpering to the pain in his leg injury, and looked to the right and to the left, but still no one there.

And then another scream. And another, and another. 

The screams doubled, tripled, until it was like hell. It reminded him of the dorocha screaming. Merlin put his bloody hands to his ears, trying to keep his head cold. It was an enchantment. It had to be. Morgana had put a spell on the room’s walls. She wanted to drive him insane. But she wouldn’t succeed. Never. 

He closed his eyes and snuggled up into himself again. He could hear the cries even through his palms, but they were far away. He breathed hardly, terrified, chest shaking slightly. He was trying to stay calm. He had to stay calm…

_It’s not real…_ he kept repeating to himself. _I’m stronger than that…_

Sweat rolled down his white face. He bit his lip while pressing harder on his ears. Then, the screams stopped all of a sudden. 

And the door cracked open, letting a warm breeze enter the room. Merlin opened his eyes, breathless and still shaking violently. His gaze looked for Morgana and found her, still dressed with this long dark gown. Light came from the corridor, low and weak, but Morgana closed the door before he had time to distinguish anything. 

"So?" she said while walking to him. "How are we feeling in there?"

"You won’t break me" he growled in a cold voice.

The high priestess grinned.

"Of course not. It won’t be easy. You’re Emrys, after all. But don’t worry, it’s far from over."

She walked closer and squatted before him. Her cold rain caught his chin and turned his face towards her.

"You’re fading away" she whispered joyfully. "Eat up, you’ll get your strength back."

She put a little piece of bread — that looked dry and stone hard — on the floor, with a little bowl full of water. Merlin frowned. 

"You just want to delay the inevitable" he said.

"Yes, well. See it the way that pleases you."

"What do you want, Morgana?" he sighed, his strength truly leaving him. "I told you, Arthur’s not coming back. I’m Emrys. Your sworn enemy, and I’m at your complete mercy. So what are you waiting for? Finish me off."

"I’m not going to make it that easy, dear Merlin."

She rose and took a last look at him.

"But you’re right about Arthur. He’s not coming. In fact, no one will come for you. You’re a traitor now. And even if Arthur was to come, it would only be to bring you back to Camelot to put you in the pyre and see you burn. That’s all you deserve. They’ll watch you burn, all of them. Arthur. The knights you love so much. You dear Gwen. Oh, and Gaius. You beloved Gaius."

Merlin was trying to keep control over the anger that was slowly rising in his veins. He wanted to scream to her that she was wrong. That Arthur, Gwen, Gaius and the knights — his friends — wouldn’t watch him die in the flames. But he knew deep inside that Arthur wasn’t coming, so what was the difference? In both scenarios, he was left here abandoned, and to die by Morgana’s cruel hand. 

"So I’d rather not eat anything and just wait for death to come."

"Yeah, you could also do that" the witch agreed. "But you won’t. Because if you let yourself die in here, I’ll do whatever I can to make Arthur pay, to make him suffer. I won’t leave him alone, and I know you’d do all you can to protect him. You really are an idiot, aren’t you? Don’t believe that because I have you here in chains and at my mercy that it’ll keep me from having what I want. I still have things to settle with my brother."

Merlin tried to jump, but was stopped by the sounds of the chains knocking together. He wanted to hurt her, he wanted to stop her from trying to harm Arthur, but what could he do? He was chained, hungry and wounded, at the bottom of a cell somewhere he didn’t even know. 

Morgana laughed victoriously. 

"No one’s coming for you, Merlin" she repeated while retrieving to the door. "No one will come."

When she closed the door, her voice echoed in the room. And when silence claimed back its right in the room, the screams continued. Merlin put his hands back on his ears and stared into the darkness in front of him. He couldn’t do anything else but pray that it would be over soon. 

 

* * *

The torment lasted two whole nights. Merlin, after a couple of hours, had noticed that there were strange dolls hanging from the ceiling. They were dark and spilling a weird dark substance, a bit like that one that he had found under Uther’s bed, the enchantment that had made the king lose his mind. And despite his knowledge of what was going on, despite him knowing the source of the screams was the poison of the mandrake, he couldn’t help but succumb to the mental torture Morgana was putting him through. Even with all his powers, he wasn’t immune. He was weak, wounded, he had lost a lot of blood already and on top of that he was so hungry… Morgana had sucked half of his magic out of him, leaving him only the bare minimum not to die from his injuries.

At the beginning, he had been able to ignore the cries, but eventually, he had tired himself from keeping his hands on his ears. The pain from the injury on his stomach was forcing him to lay on the ground, curled up, hand on his wound. Then, he was vulnerable to the screams again. And, as if Morgana wasn’t already cruel enough, she transformed the voices into those of Arthur, Gwen, Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, and even Lancelot. All the voices mixed together as if they were being tortured played on Merlin’s mind. It was only to the second night that Merlin finally broke out yelling too. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

Eyes closed, snuggled up onto himself, holding his body as to try and keep himself together, he put his shaking hands to his head and screamed loudly. And Arthur and Gwen’s screams… he could only imagine what kind of torture Morgana was putting them through. He could also smell fire, and he imagined a pyre. In his troubled memories, awaken by Morgana’s evil spell, he could see Gwen taken to the dungeons after she was accused of having enchanted Arthur. He could see Arthur, bloodied, screaming in pain, attacked and tortured and he could no longer separate the real from the fake. Lancelot’s face, the face of the Keeper of the Spirit World. The cries of the dorochas. 

Merlin was a mess now, screaming and sobbing, when Morgana entered the cell the morning of the third day of this. She was smiling, victorious, a shadow under her eyes making her look more terrifying then ever. With her arrival, the screams stopped. For the first time in forty-eight hours, silence was complete, buzzing in his ears and almost painful. Merlin’s cheeks were wet from tears as he lifted his head from the floor with great difficulty. His blue gaze, in which shone suffering, caught Morgana’s frame in the darkness.

"Poor Emrys" she said. 

She walked up to him and crouched before him. Panicked, Merlin rose quickly and rolled away as far as possible, crawling to the wall behind him. But the movement sent pain straight to his leg and into the rest of his body.

"Where did you think you were going?"

She took his chin into her fingers and forced him to look at her. Her smile was gone and the shadow under her eyes seemed larger. Her eyes were cold, and so was her face. 

"I couldn’t break you, you said?"

"Not that easily" the warlock muttered in a hoarse and obstinate voice.

"Patience, Emrys. Into my good care you’ll no longer be the greatest warlock to ever exist, but just another plague that I’ll need to destroy. My doom, right? How can a servant as pathetic as you can be destined to be my doom?"

She looked at him with disgust in her eyes and then laughed. Merlin felt her jaw tightened and anger boiling inside him.

"I know, it doesn’t make sense" he murmured. "Morgana, I’m not the one destined to be your doom. You’re perfectly capable of doing that yourself. You keep fighting those who aren’t your enemies… You let yourself be engulfed with your own darkness. One day, Morgana, you’ll lose. You’ll lose and you’ll do so alone. Alone and miserable."

The woman’s features hardened as he was speaking and as soon as he finished, Merlin felt a hard smack to his cheek, so strong his head turned to the side completely. The pain spread in his head and his lip started bleeding down his chin.

"You know I’m right" he gasped. "That’s why you’re angry now."

"Careful what you say!" she hissed, anger emanating from every pore of her skin. 

"You don’t know what to do with me anymore, right?" Merlin whispered. "You know Arthur’s not coming… You know it."

Morgana frowned at his words. Her expression was one of irritation, pure fury and stone cold hatred. She leaned over and caught the young man by his shirt. With brutal force, she pulled him to her.

"I will destroy you, Emrys. But before I do that, I will finish Merlin off. That insolent serving boy who doesn’t know when to shut up. I will break him, break him in every way that is possible to break someone. And don’t forget that Arthur doesn’t want you anymore. He will surely be happy to help me. Help me rid this world of the sorcerer who betrayed him. He abandoned you after all, remember?"

Morgana threw him on the ground after her speech and rose on her feet. She glared at him one last time. Merlin was never as vulnerable as he was now. He was injured, tired, hungry and weak and yet, he was looking at her with eyes full of determination. He was hurting, but refusing to give up. She hated this bluish gaze. She hated Emrys’s eyes that seemed to tell her one day he would destroy her. She hated that in his eyes she saw all the strength he possessed, despite his pitiful physical state. She hated that he was stronger than her.

After reflexion, she extended her hand and, eyes glued on Merlin, slowly closed her fingers in the air as if to choke him. 

" _Gesweorc, hine beclyppe!_ " she exclaimed in a loud voice, her eyes glowing in a fierce yellow colour.

Merlin, sprawling at her feet, opened eyes and mouth wide. Slowly, air began to run out. His throat was strangled by Morgana’s spell. He moved on the floor, hands to his neck, but there was nothing he could do. He was suffocating. He had to breathe! But Morgana was choking him without pity. She went on for several seconds, closing her hand almost into a fist. He could hear the sounds of his own breathing, muffled and repressed, as he was really suffocating. Morgana was euphoric, smiling vengefully where she stood, looking down at the servant she was killing without a second thought. 

Merlin was turning purple. She could’ve went on, closing her hand into a perfect fist and crashed Merlin’s throat for good, and take her revenge on him trying to poison her all those years ago. But she wanted the torture to go on. She wanted him to suffer longer. Much longer. 

So she stopped, letting her arm fall on her side. Merlin was on the edge of fainting. His hand fell from his throat, and onto the floor, eyes closing slowly.

"Let this serve as a lesson" she said.

And she disappeared. 

* * *

Again he didn’t know how much time had passed. When he woke up, darkness was still around. He tried to concentrate on his vision and then he noticed that the mandrakes that had been hanging from the ceiling were gone. Merlin stared into the void for a little wide, eyes tired looking around to look for another sign that Morgana was still torturing him. He was somewhere between pain and hallucinations, conscious but only just.

He was lying on his back, one of his hand on his chest and the other on his wound that had started bleeding again. His skin was so pale, he had lost too many blood now. His hair was damp because of the fever making him so hot. Barely conscious, he press carefully on his wound, feeling the weak pulse beating there, fingers deep into the blood. Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, pressing more forcefully with his palm — he felt fragile and ready to faint again at any instant, but he knew he had to stay awake. He was too tired to think. Too tired and too weak to find a solution, even to call for his magic that would, anyway, only work half. He would tire himself even more… But then again, he didn’t care. It hurt too much…

So he opened his eyes.

" _Ic pe…_ " he said with great difficulty. " _Purhhaele… pin licsare… Ic pe purhhaele pin… licsare_ …"

After that, the colour of his eyes changed and he felt dizziness wash over him. He waited. He waited to feel the usual numb feeling he would feel after using a healing spell. But nothing. Nothing. Just the sound of his obstinate heartbeat, and the slow pulsation of the wound under his hand. He was always bad with healing spells… now more than ever with only half his magic.

Was that really the way he would die? He couldn’t feel his leg anymore. And his stomach injury… He would eventually bleed out from there. After everything he went through with Arthur, was that the way the journey would end? Against Morgana? Morgana was indeed, after all, his sworn enemy. 

Arthur…

Merlin closed his eyes, bloody fingers tired on his chest. _Arthur_ … he thought. He could see him again, grabbing Gwaine and running as far away as possible. He’d left him there. He abandoned him. Morgana was right. How many time now? Days, of course. He still wasn’t there for him. Even if Merlin kept repeating it with confidence to Morgana, he never believed it. Deep inside him, he had hoped, naively perhaps, that Arthur would rescue him. He had hoped Arthur would care enough for him to go over his magic and his lie to come and bring him back. But maybe he’d been wrong all along…

And he would die like this. In the end, he was the one who’d die alone and miserable.

_"Arthur’s not coming for you. No one will come, Merlin."_

Morgana wasn’t wrong. 

_"He’ll be the first one to throw you in the pyre. He’ll even be glad to help me rid the world of such a traitor as you."_

Merlin winced in pain and looked away, breathing in some air. No. Morgana was trying to play with his mind. She was trying to upset his spirit. He couldn’t let her beat him with her games. All of this was part of her plan. She wanted to destroy him and she knew she had to use Arthur for that — his biggest weakness. 

Opening his eyes slowly, Merlin saw a plate of food, with a little piece of bread and a small slice of cheese. A cup of water. Tears rose up in his eyes. He couldn’t believe what was in front of him. He was so hungry. Nothing else mattered anymore, he _had_ to eat. 

His magic being too weak to pull the plate to him, he had to crawl to it. With difficulty and a couple of tears falling on his swollen cheeks from the pain it caused him, he finally managed to sit up. His hand then immediately closed around the piece of bread and he tore it up with eager and trembling hands. His empty stomach was twisted in an agonizing way. 

He ate quickly everything there was and then drank all the water until the very last drop and even after that his throat still felt dry and sore. And then, as he laid back down, terrible cramps made him bend in pain. All this time without eating… He didn’t know if he wanted more or if he wanted to vomit everything he had just eaten. 

_"No one will come for you, Merlin."_

He put a hand on his head.

_"Nobody."_

And then suddenly, he thought of his mother. More tears welled up under his closed eyelids. He wanted to see her. He wanted her to be there, to take him in her arms. He wanted to be in her warm embrace, safe back home. He never felt so alone, so abandoned. He thought of Gaius. To the comfort of his hugs, of his chambers. The soft and tender gaze of the old man and his way of taking care of him like a son. 

Another tear ran down his cheek and he snuggled into himself. 

"Sleep, my boy" Gaius would whisper if he was here, covering him with the think blanket he owned on his shivering body. "I’ll have your favorite meal waiting for you when you wake up."

"You’re safe now, my love" his mother would say, soft fingers running on his forehead, and then in his air. 

And he would fall asleep. 

Merlin let himself faint, unconsciousness welcoming him with opened arms. 

"He abandoned you, remember?" Morgana’s voice echoing inside him like a venom of the worst kind. 

* * *

He resembled a fallen angel. Sleeping, or rather unconscious because of the hunger, the thirst, the blood loss, the fever and the pain, he laid on the ground, twisted into himself like a scared animal. He was shaking. Skin as pale as death, and if the man’s chest wasn’t rising up and down slowly and irregularly, she could’ve thought he was dead. Blood soiled his lips, his eyebrow and a soft and weak breath was coming out of his mouth here and then.

Morgana, who was watching him with blank eyes, lifted her hand high. She was holding a skin full of water that she, slowly, emptied on her prisoner’s face. 

Merlin woke up jumping at the contact of the cold water. He opened his eyes while breathing deeply, then coughing when he swallowed and breathed water by accident. 

"Good morning, Emrys" she said, her gaze dark and her lips a hard and perfect straight line. 

All traces of evil amusement were gone from her face. She was standing straight and as dark as she ever been. Her gaze was showing hate and determination. Merlin knew that he didn’t have long now.

"You were right, Merlin. I don’t know what to do with you."

"You can get rid of me once and for all" the young man said in a low voice. "What use am I to you now?"

"Good question."

And finally, the ghost of a smile appeared on the face of the hight priestess.

"You know why, don’t you?"

Merlin didn’t bother to answer. Of course he knew. He knew what she was going to say.

"Because no one will come."

And yet, her words hurt like a blade to his gut.

"It’s been a week, Merlin" she continued. "Arthur is better than that. I’m not that hard to find. If he really had wanted to find you, it would be done already. But he doesn’t want to find you. Because you’re a sorcerer. You’re a traitor and because of that he hates you. We’re not so different, you and I, after all, Emrys. Why did you bother all these years to serve the king and his imbecile of a son? To be so loyal to people who would’ve had your head on a spike? You see how he treats you now that he knows. In front of your real identity, of who you really are, he rejects you. You know, you say I’ve been turning my back on those who aren’t my real enemies. But in fact, it’s you. It’s you, Emrys, who turned your back on those like you. You’re the most powerful sorcerer to ever exist and I am the last high priestess of the Old Religion. Just imagine what we could’ve achieve together. We could’ve easily brought magic back to the kingdom. We could’ve ruled as kings. But it’s too late, because I hate you. Destiny talked about you as the one who would be my doom, but it’s going to be the other way around. And I don’t believe the fact that you’re stronger than any other sorcerer. What you can accomplish, I can too."

She crouched next to him and, as she spoke, took his hand that was laying on his wound. Cruelly, she used her magic to intensifie her strength and then broke the thin wrist. A hoarse cry of pure pain echoed through the room. Morgana observed as Merlin’s face winced in agony.

"You won’t use your magic to save yourself, Emrys" she hissed angrily, replacing the broken hand on the young man’s stomach where it was. "I forbid you."

Merlin kept his eyes closed, head back, breathing hard and whimpering softly.

And then, without warning, he jumped to his feet. His eyes opened wide and Morgana didn’t have time to register what was happening. His eyes turned gold, shining in the darkness, and she went flying all the way across the room, crushing against the wall. 

She cried in pain as she fell on the floor. Instantly, she rose and, anger burning bright in her eyes:

"I see you’ve had enough of me, Emrys!" she said. "Well then. I can offer you some other company if that’s what you’d like!"

Without looking away from him, in a snap of her fingers, she opened the gates to the cell. 

"Come now!" she exclaimed. 

Merlin felt his heart doubled the pace, as he witnessed a dozen… no, almost twenty men enter the cell. He lifted himself up a little, despite his broken wrist that was hurting so bad, and crawled back to the wall, as far away from then as possible, even if he knew it was futile. 

Morgana’s face was annoyed, irritated. 

"Do what you want with him, I don’t give a rat’s ass."

And before she left, she added:

"But don’t kill him."

Merlin braced himself, swallowing back. Now that would be fun.

* * *

He didn’t remember how he felt before these men made it worst. Vulnerable? Fragile? Broken? Those were only words. Deceptive states. He had been wrong. He had been top shape before they came…

And yet he was proud. He hadn’t made it easy for them, but now he knew he was going to die, without a single doubt. He knew it, felt it. He felt the life slowly flow out of him. One of them had ran him through with a knife, the exact same place of his wound, tearing the flesh yet again. And he was bleeding. Bleeding profusely. 

They all came into the cell under Morgana’s mocking and satisfied grin. They had been twenty or a little less. His magic was stronger than what he’d thought, than what Morgana had believed herself. She’d underestimated him, and because of his that, he could’ve defended himself if only for a little while. He had sent ten of her men flying onto the wall hard enough to knock them out. He had made the sword of one of them burning until he had to drop it. They were five still standing when he had started feeling drained, tired and about to collapse. Morgana’s spell on his magic was working. He had tried to fight with his hands but there was no use. 

Hits and kicks rained on him. On his sides, on his stomach. He had curled up on the floor and tried to protect himself best he could. But the pain irradiating from his body like a fire was just too much. They had beat him almost to unconsciousness, and then he had prayed all the saints that he knew about for that carnage to stop. He fainted believing his body was in a thousand pieces. 

And time went on, becoming something inseparable. Something unknown and strange. Moments he was conscious, but not for long. During the time he was aware, he observed with empty eyes the ceiling above him. He could swear that from time to time, there was a light coming from somewhere. Maybe it was day. But Merlin couldn’t say when exactly the light disappeared — when it was night again. He was hurting so much. Hurt, in every shred of his body. He let himself go. He forgot the hunger, the thirst. He just wanted to escape the pain and the suffering…

And Morgana — two days later? a week later? a month? — forced food into him. She forced him to swallow, then threw water at his face. He was barely aware of having risen to breathe and keep the food from choking him to death. But he fell right back on the floor, head crashing painfully, making him moan. He opened his eyes and saw Morgana’s green ones.

And then he fell asleep.

He slept for eternity, it seemed. 

When he woke up again, Morgana was putting more food into his mouth.

"If you think you have the luxury of just letting yourself starve to death, you’re wrong, Emrys. You’re going to stay alive."

He didn’t have any more reflexes. Just the primary instinct. His hand, the one who wasn’t broken, landed on Morgana’s hands and try to push her away. Crumbles of bread fell down his throat and he almost choked on them. But she held his jaw tight and forced him to swallow while he coughed violently. 

"That wasn’t so hard was it?"

"W-Why… why… don’t you… k-kill… me?"

"Believe it or not, Emrys, your magic is too strong. Too precious."

He frowned, eyes unable to concentrate on those of the high priestess. 

"What… what will you do?"

"Find a way to own your powers. I’m sure there is somewhere a way, in the ancient knowledges of the high priestesses. Something that can allow me to transfer your magic to me. Or just torture and condition you until you obey my every will."

A small laugh made Merlin’s chest tremble, while his face winced and twisted in what was supposed to be a smile.

"If you think… I… I’d rather you… bury me… alive."

"Careful what you ask for" Morgana smiled. "I can still grant you that wish."

"You think you’re the first to ask me to join you? I was… tempted… in the past, by other evil sorcerers… as arrogant… and vile than you, Morgana."

"But you see, Emrys. I don’t want you to join me. I want you to be my slave, my pet. I want you to be just a doll that I can use and play with."

"It’s not going to happen."

"Like you could decide your fate in that state of yours! Look at you, you’re a mess!"

"You know I can kill myself. You know it, right?"

"As long as your magic is there, it won’t let you die. I can give you your magic back, just a little amount."

"If I decide to let go, it won’t save me."

Morgana grabbed him violently by the shirt.

"It is I who decide your fate, is that clear?"

She was furious, her smile filled with madness. Merlin could only prepare himself for what was to come. Morgana lowered her eyes and landed her hand on his wound. As she muttered an incantation, her green eyes turned gold. 

And we could hear the screams in every corner of the stone corridors. 

* * *

He’s not coming.

Never.

He abandoned you, Merlin. Remember? In the forest. He saw you tripping. He saw you, he even looked at you. And he left. 

"Arthur is not coming for you. Nobody is."

"Because he hates you."

"You’re a traitor. A dirty, filthy traitor."

_ No. Arthur is my friend. He’s the King of Camelot. A fair and just King. He has a good heart.  _

"He abandoned you."

In his head, he kept listening to the screams that Morgana had summoned for an entire week. He could hear them again in his nightmares. His body was paralyzed by pure agony. He couldn’t think. He didn’t know anything anymore. He didn’t know if Morgana was right or wrong. And he didn’t care.

He didn’t want to know.

* * *

He was cold. He woke up a million years after, or so it felt like it. He was shivering hard, trying to snuggle up into what little warmth he had left. He was so cold…

* * *

Where was Morgana now? Merlin hadn’t seen her since…

Since when?

He was hungry. God, so hungry.

He fainted. 

* * *

A voice woke him up.

"…that right now, Gwaine!"

For the past few days, he had felt like he was drifting above his body. He had felt like he no longer was made of flesh and bones. But then he heard this voice, and felt a little throb in his leg, and a very much alive pain in his stomach. He was conscious, for the first time in a long time, of a warm and thick liquid flowing slowly down his hip, and unto the floor.

In fact, he was literally bathing in his blood. How was it possible that he wasn’t dead yet?

Bloody magic…

"Come on, you idiot. Up you get. It’s an order of your king. Quit being so lazy. C’m on, Merlin, open your eyes, wake up!"

The same voice, again. What was it saying?

His king?

"Merlin?" it said again, softer, almost scared.

Slowly, he realized several persons around him. Morgana’s men again? Panic took possession of his body. He wanted to move but it was impossible. He couldn’t. His strength had all but left him completely. Only the fear of getting beat up again was taking hold of him.

He whimpered, a little sound choked and almost unheard. He felt someone there, kneeling close to him. He smelled… a familiar scent. Someone he knew, someone he loved. And the voice. The voice was familiar too.

"It’s me, Merlin, I’m here."

When he opened his eyes, he could only see darkness. He heard the breathing around him. But he couldn’t focus on anything. He felt dizzy, so dizzy… His vision was blurry. It was probably because of all the blood he lost. The room was spinning. Everything was spinning. 

Then, he saw him. 

His silhouette was shiny in the dark. His golden hair seemed almost angelic in the obscurity. Like a supernatural apparition. Was he dead? Was that a dream?

It was Arthur.

_ "He’ll come only to throw you in the pyre." _

_ "He abandoned you." _

The flames were burning bright. He could almost feel their touch on his skin. The burn. The pain. Arthur, standing on the balcony, eyes glued to his burning body. It was as if he was already there.

But no. That was an illusion, created by Morgana’s good will. She was trying to get in her head. Arthur was good. He was kind. 

And yet, he had this image of Arthur taking Gwaine away and leaving him there. Both of them abandoning him in the opposite direction. And that wasn’t an illusion, it was a memory. A vivid memory inked into his mind. And none of Morgana’s torture could erased it. It was craved like an ancient wound, a deep one bleeding endlessly. 

He tried to push Arthur away. But his body was so weak.

"Merlin?"

Suddenly, two hands grabbed his shoulders in afirm hold, and he panicked even more. He tried to fight back, but his efforts were miserable and pathetic. His whole body was hurting, but he wanted Arthur to go away as much as they were. He was supposed to be his friend. But he had abandoned him, left him to his death. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill him now that he knew he was a sorcerer. He would have him executed for sure. Once they would be back in Camelot, he wouldn’t have a choice.

"Don't come any closer" he said in a low and broken voice.

"Merlin, please. You’re in shock."

He saw Arthur’s hand hovering over him, so close to his face. Merlin saw red. He moved quickly, heart beating so fast and hard that it actually hurt. Fear overwhelmed him, and he accidentally put weight on his broken wrist as he rose to get away from the danger. He heard Morgana’s words in his head. And the screams. The terrifying screams that had filled his head for hours — for days. He saw the men again, encircling him, beating him to unconsciousness. And her cruel voice, singing: _"He would kill you without hesitation. You’re nothing but a traitor, after all!"_

"GO AWAY!" he finally managed to yell out of his aching lungs.

* * *

He was shocked. He knew he wasn’t dreaming — or having a nightmare — or if it was reality. His hands immediately let go of him and he was completely mute for a moment. He felt his heart ache while Merlin was trying to move away from him. He felt his eyes prickle because of the tears slowly forming.

First of all, Merlin looked terrible. His face was covered in dry blood, his lips dry, one of them split, his hair dirty and covered in dust and blood. A bruise covered entirely one of his eye, some scars were crossing his pale skin here and there. And his body… God, his body. Arthur wondered how he could still be alive. That wound, fatal, on his stomach. It was bleeding freely and Merlin was keeping his hand onto it. And the injury on his leg was awful and looked so painful. The flesh was cut open between the tear of his trousers. Arthur almost threw up at the idea fo the amount of pain Merlin must be in. And suddenly, flashes of the past came rushing into his mind. The cheerful and silly Merlin, the one who always joked, the one who was so amused it was sometimes unnerving. The one who was innocent and funny, kind and brave. Stupid and courageous. With that idiotic heroism complex in his thin body. The one who was always smiling this beautiful, pure smile. 

The one there, in front of him, was broken. Completely broken. 

"Merlin, I…" he muttered, trying to get close to him.

He refused to think he couldn’t touch him again, have him close. Guilt was running inside him. He had to take him into his arms and hold him close and tight — like he had craved to do these last two weeks. He had to tell him how much he regretted what he had done and that he had been so scared to lose him for good.

But the words stayed stuck in his throat. And anyway, Merlin was obviously still aware. And he was right to stay away from him, to reject him. After all, Merlin was conscious and very much awake when Arthur had decided to leave him there, while he had grabbed Gwaine and ran away. Merlin had seen them. Their gazes had met for a second. But in the moment, Arthur was overwhelmed by anger, betrayal and hurt. 

"No, no!" the wounded man repeated. 

His voice was hoarse and tired. It was obvious he hadn’t had anything to drink in a while. 

"Get… get away from me…" he said, looking at the king with eyes widened by fear. 

It was as if Merlin believed Arthur would attack him. Arthur decided it was enough. He wouldn’t lift a hand on his servant! He never did and never would! 

"Merlin, this is completely ridiculous, I…"

But Merlin kept on trying to get away from him. He tried to get up, but only ended up on the floor again. His leg was giving him a hard time, and his body was weakened to its limits.

"Sire!" Leon exclaimed, stopping Arthur with a hand on his shoulder.

Gwaine, on the other side, had caught Merlin before he hurt himself more.

Arthur looked sadly at his servant — and friend. Merlin was acting on instinct. The light in his eyes was gone, completely gone. He wasn’t really aware of his surroundings. He was on survival mode. Was he even recognizing them properly? Did he know they were there to rescue him and not hurt him more?

This brought another thought to Arthur’s mind: he must have endured great physical torture to be so scared, to be so lost, so confused around people he knew well. People who were his friends, and people he knew for certain would never hurt him.

Boiling rage made its way inside him. His blood went cold with anger. He got out from Leon’s grasp and stood up. Leon rose by his side, while Gwaine was lying Merlin down softly. The latter had put a bloody hand on his side and was looking at the ceiling, looking like he was aching all over. 

"Merlin, it’s me. Gwaine."

Arthur kept his jaw tight. 

"She…" Merlin started, speaking low. "Morgana."

"We have to find a way out of here" Leon said. "We have to take Merlin to Gaius as soon as we can."

Merlin opened his eyes. He was losing consciousness yet again, but the sound of his name made him look around the small space around him. Gwaine, who was holding him, delicately forced him to look at him. 

"Over here, look at me. You know who I am, right?"

The blue irises turned to Gwaine. He stared at the familiar features, the beard and the sweet and caring eyes. Gwaine smiled at his friend.

"You with me, mate?"

For a moment, Merlin didn’t move. No one could have known if he was still conscious, if he was seeing him, if he was recognizing him, or even dead inside. His eyes weren’t moving, weren’t even flinching. He was so pale, so lifeless in Gwaine’s arms. 

But then he blinked.

"Gwaine?"

"That’s me."

"We’re here, Merlin" Elyan added. "We’ve come to get you back."

Merlin looked at Elyan and swallowed, dying of thirst. Again, he took some time to understand. 

"M… Morgana."

"She doesn’t know what’s coming her way!" Gwaine roared. 

"No… No…"

"What are you trying to say?" Percival asked, stepping closer.

Merlin tried to get up to be able to look at the big knight, but a wave of dizziness forced him to moan and get back down. 

"Merlin! Stay with me, Merlin, please!" Gwaine panicked. "What were you saying about Morgana?"

But Merlin was out cold. 

"She’s probably plotting an attack on Camelot, as she always is!"Arthur said. "Camelot is vulnerable without us."

Then, as frustration got the better of him, he let out a shout.

"We have to get out of here!"

"Arthur" Gwaine said.

The king looked down on the knight who had just talked. Gwaine was hunched over Merlin.

"His wounds are serious. He’s losing too much blood. It doesn’t make sense, at this rate he should already be dead by now."

"…ma, ma… magic…" the sorcerer whispered, eyes still closed though. 

He was still conscious then. But after he spoke, his head lolled back and a soft sigh left his mouth. He was completely out this time. 

"Morgana put a spell on him so he wouldn’t die from his wounds?" Leon suggested. 

"How cruel", Elyan commented. "To torture him that way and keep him alive."

Arthur didn’t even know what was keeping him still. As soon as he would see her face, he would explode. Even if it meant hitting the gates with his sword until it broke. He had to get out of there. He had to stop Morgana from attacking Camelot.

And he _had_ to save Merlin. His life was hanging on a thread now. A really thin one. He couldn’t lose him. He could not. 

* * *

Being held inside this cell was a torture in itself, with Morgana’s threats of attacking Camelot hovering over their heads, but it was even more so a torture that they had to hear Merlin’s tortured sounds and moans. Sometimes he’d choke, cough or vomit blood. Other times he would just breath fast and loud, desperately searching for his air, searching for the life that he was bleeding out slowly…

Gwaine was staying beside him, because he was dreading Arthur’s presence. Arthur was suffering because of it, but silently. He was craving to get closer to Merlin, to comfort him, to tell him he was so sorry, that he’d save him, that he _would_. He felt so guilty, and he had only himself to blame. That day, it only took seconds to decide to leave Merlin behind. Now he was in that state because of him. He wasn’t even sure that Merlin would survive. He wouldn’t, if they didn’t get out of there, and it wasn’t likely that Morgana was letting them out anytime soon. And even so, if Morgana lifted the spell she’d put on him, he would die from his wounds. He’d lost too much blood by now, and he was starved and dehydrated gravely. 

It was driving him mad. Mad to be kept here. Dying from worry for Merlin. For Camelot. For Gwen. Gwen, alone back there, with a kingdom on her hands, alone ahead the dangers of Morgana and her army.

Arthur couldn’t say how much time had passed — hours? days? — when Morgana appeared through the slits of the gates, a victorious grin on her withe face. He knew only that he was hungry and thirsty, and that was the same for his knights. Merlin was conscious when she looked down at him. He was conscious but only just. 

"Evening, gentlemen!" she said, happily. 

Gwaine, as much as Arthur and the rest of the knights, frowned, anger on their every feature. He remembered all too well the time passed in the dungeons of Camelot with Elyan and Gaius, not so long ago. At the time, he had done everything he could to protect Gaius and bring back some food, but now, it was Merlin he was going to protect from her. His best friend, half dead in his arms.

He looked at her with hatred as she was opening the gates and entering the cell. 

"Sir Gwaine!" she exclaimed. "We've been there, done that, haven't we?"

She stepped in the darkness, faintly illuminated by the torch that she’d left at the entry of the dungeons. Arthur, who couldn’t take it anymore, jumped at her without thinking, wielding Excalibur. Morgana was quicker than him. A drift of her chin, eyes glowing gold, and she was throwing him against the wall. 

"Arthur!" Leon and Elyan shouted as they all ran to him while Percival stepped in front of Gwaine, keeping him from doing the same idiotic move. 

Morgana was standing in front of them, powerful, irradiating from an invisible power, palpable. Her grin was driving them all mad, crazy with rage, but against her, it was as if they were outnumbered. 

"You are hungry are you not? Big lads like you need to eat. What about a little game before supper?"

Elyan kept to himself the roaring he felt rising up inside his throat, but Gwaine let it out. They knew the ‘game’ she was referring to. Gwaine rose, leaving Merlin on the ground, and got out from Percival’s grip. He only had eyes for that witch that was the cause for so many suffering and evil. In the back, Leon was helping Arthur up on his feet.

Morgana looked at Gwaine as he was walking to her, fists tight, and let out a mocking laugh. 

"What do you think you’ll do?" she asked. "You want to join your king on the wall?"

"You…!" Gwaine started.

Morgana’s eyes glowed and the knight, as she said, joined his king on the wall, violently thrown in the air. 

"Gwaine!" Percival cried, running to help him.

Morgana lost her grin after that. Her face, pale and threatening, was reflecting the beginning of a bad mood. She was losing patience. They could forget about their so called ‘supper’ now, for sure, even if it was the last of their worries. She stepped towards them, Leon, Elyan and Percival putting themselves between her and their king, Gwaine and Merlin, who was the most vulnerable of them all.

"You know what I’ll do, dear brother," she said.

Arthur sent her back her cold stare, filled with challenge and shared hatred — with sorrow too, unforgotten pain. Somewhere deep inside him, Arthur was still hurting, deeply hurting from her half sister’s betrayal. To see what she had turned to. She was so kind before, so caring and loyal. The woman that stood before them today was a complete stranger, nothing to do with the sweet Morgana from the past. 

"I’ll destroy Camelot and everything you hold dear! I’ll also destroy your dear Guinevere, that serving girl who sits on my throne with so much arrogance! I’ll break her, Arthur, I’ll break her the way I broke Merlin!"

Arthur truly didn’t know how he could be so still. Morgana’s words were like poison, burning away his flesh. He shivered brutally at the mention of what she’d do to Gwen. At the image of her in the same state as Merlin was now. No, he couldn’t take it anymore!

But as he opened his mouth, ready to yell at her and take out his sword again, someone spoke. 

"You’ll do nothing."

Arthur felt shivers again at the sound of that voice. Together, he and the knights looked down to see Merlin. 

Half dead, badly wounded, tired, hungry and seriously dehydrated, he was getting up on his feet. He managed, under their dumbfounded eyes, to stand on his own and straightened his head. His pale eyes seemed to glow in the dark, filled with dark emotions. Arthur looked at him, impressed and speechless. He faced Morgana without so much as fear in his eyes. 

"You won’t hurt anyone anymore, Morgana…" he said, hand firmly holding his side, as a natural instinct to keep himself together. 

"And _you_ will stop me?" she laughed. "Open your eyes, Emrys, you lost EVERYTHING! And you’ll die in a matter of time!"

She stepped towards him, laughing madly.

"I can also kill your beloved Arthur if you prefer. I can kill him in the blink of an eye! I can choke him to death. You know the feeling, don’t you?"

She lifted her palm in Arthur’s direction, but before the king could so much as feel the pressure around his throat, something incredible happened. Merlin left his side and placed both of his hands in front of him, palms opened. He let out a shout coming from deep inside. An angry, desperate yell, a gathering of all the strength left in his very core. His eyes went from blue to gold.

A powerful gush of wind washed over them. The ground trembled. Morgana’s body was thrown far away. The gates of the cell bursted from their hinges, and Morgana joined them on the wall in the back of the corridor, knocked unconscious instantly. The wind made the torche’s fire stronger for a moment but eventually, with the lack of oxygen, the fire died down, leaving the place in absolute darkness. The calm returned. Morgana didn’t move from under the pile of ruins that Merlin’s magic caused.

Arthur couldn’t believe his eyes — and the knights either. They all kept quiet and very still, not quite sure what had just happened. 

But they all came back to their senses when Merlin fell to the floor.

 

**To Be Continued...**

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I originally wrote in French, but I thought about translating it. I hope you liked it, I will update soon. :)


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